


Sortis

by felinesandbeanies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Fluff, Humor, Immortal Inquisitor, Light Angst, M/M, Reincarnate Dorian, Slight Solavellan, pavellan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felinesandbeanies/pseuds/felinesandbeanies
Summary: Instead of the inevitable death the anchor is destined to give, it gives the bearer unquestionable immortality. Athera Lavellan has been forced to watch his friends and paramour age and wither as the world continuously progressed and changed around him.orCreators. He watched him age and die. This--This is---“Dorian Pavus,” the man says with a graceful bow, then adds, “the second.” “Vishante Kaffas,” Athera let slip. He leans back on his chair, dumbfounded. He must surely be dreaming again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sortis (latin)  
> \- fate  
> \- prophecy  
> \- destiny
> 
> and somehow it also means loan and sex.

_  
Dorian stirred, feeling the empty bed sheets beside him. He grumbled and whined, shifting so that he’s lying on his back with his fingers interlocked on his chest. Athera smirked as he watched his lover. “Cold?”_

_Dorian weakly opens one eye, shuts it. “Mmph.”_

_Athera puts his book back down then went to Dorian’s side of the bed. He straddles his lover and cups his face in his hands. “You make me so happy.”_

_The man beneath him opened his eyes fully, a smile making its way to his lips. “But?”_

_“You’re not my Dorian,” Athera said, giving him a sad smile._

_Dorian--Not Dorian raked his hand through Athera’s hair. “Where is your Dorian?”_

_“Dead,” Athera shrugged. “He died in my arms. I am no fool to believe in dreams...not anymore.”_

_“Then maybe it’s time you wake up, Amatus.”_

_Athera’s eyes sparked. “Don’t you dare call me tha--”_

__

Athera gasped as he opened his eyes. He sat up, exhausted. “Damn it. Damn him.” His hand glared at him, the green mark glowing--mocking. This immortality that he had to live with. Why did he have to do it alone? This mark was supposed to save people and bring them happiness. Could it not spare a little happiness for him? He raked a hand through his hair. He should get over this. It’s been over a millennium...or more. 

New technology that he can’t quite fathom and new philosophies. God forbid, new religions and new languages as well. He’s amazed that he caught on so well. He works as a history professor in college and is also working for the current ‘government’ or whatever the hell the ‘modernized’ fools called it. His label as the ‘Inquisitor’ never did die out. He was still quick to respond during political crises while also failing the majority of his students (“Really? Coriphy-fish?”). 

It was hard without the inner circle beside him. It was hard without Dorian beside him. He watched him die in his arms, the age catching up to him. And Dorian. Dorian. Dorian. That name. He couldn’t even say it, he couldn’t even stop himself from feeling butterflies and then the feeling of getting stabbed that comes after the butterflies; a dagger to his chest would hurt less. 

“You hurt,” a voice said. 

Athera groaned. “Cole, good morning.” 

“Longing for something you cannot have in the mornings,” Cole said. “Excited to lose yourself in the evenings. Why?” 

“What do you mean why?” He sighed. “We’ve already had this conversation.” 

“He’s closer than you think.”

“He’s dead,” Athera snarled. He would not be having one of those ‘his spirit lives on with you’ bullshit conversation. “Let him rest.” 

“But Athe--”

“Enough,” he sighed. “I will not have this.” 

Athera would have to apologize later, but the sad smile Cole gave him already told him that he was forgiven. The only thing he had left to remind him of the life he once had was Cole. The spirit was doing well with adjusting...well, as well as a compassion spirit could. Cole technically worked as a therapist for one of the government owned hospitals.

“Athera?” 

Athera grit his teeth. “Yes?” 

“You’re late for class.” 

“Shit.”

* * *

“Sorry I’m late,” Athera said, voice betraying his words. He was not looking forward to today’s discussion. He’d rather not have it. “Today we’ll talk about the Inquisition.” 

Athera began the lecture, his palms were never dry for the whole damn thing. He could not seem to calm down enough for him to avoid shifting from foot to foot and rubbing his hands together as if he were washing his hands. Creators help him. He’d rather face Corypheus another time than deal with this sort of torture. 

It, of course, felt odd to talk about his life as if it was something only a person could imagine. If he were not a living relic of those days, would people really believe in their history books? How twisted would the truth be if he wasn’t alive to correct every single misprint. Oh how he loved scanning through books just to see various authors label him a ‘Trevelyan’ and pair him up with _Cassandra_. Cassandra is a beautiful woman and Trevelyans have much to hold but perhaps in another universe, but not this one. He made sure to strip almost all the details about his and Dorian’s romance, relying only on his journals and Varric’s books which surprisingly survived through the years. He’s succeeded with living a low profile kind of life.

“...Iron Bull, Solas, and, D--” he swallowed. “Dorian of House Pavus.” 

If his students noticed how his voice and posture changed, they were kind enough to not react to it. It’s ridiculous. How many times did he have to tell his history? Has it been more than a million? More? However long it may be it seems like he can’t just seem to get over the pain of it all. How do you un-love someone? How do you forget watching their hair turn white and the old witty streak that they had just slow down and ultimately disappear? He turned his attention back to his students; They all looked at him with a mixture of emotions, some were very much interested in the discussion and some were trying their best not to sleep. Keyword: trying. 

“Blight take me,” he whispered as he wrote down notes on the board. 

He doesn’t feel himself talk anymore, almost detached. His mouth was moving and he seems to make sense because his students were nodding along. Athera loved history, don’t get it wrong. He loved it to a point of tears, it felt like he was living his life again. But when he has to talk about the Inquisition all he can see is his friends dying and ageing and forgetting who he was and what they once did as friends. 

After a while Athera realized that he cannot, no matter how hard he tries, live his life without referencing from a life that he had before. Baked goods? Sera. Smutty fiction? Cassandra. Dogs? Cullen. Every alcoholic drink and ‘bars’ (as the kids liked to call it)? Iron bull and Varric. 

Dorian--well he can’t seem to do anything without remembering Dorian. He’s normally good at taming his own thoughts, but lately it’s all been about Dorian. Dorian. _Dorian. Dorian. **Dorian. Dorian.**_ It’s as if something is coming. Damn him for leaving his mark in everything Athera does. The smell of books, the roaring of the sea, the gentle fall of the snow, the twinkling of the stars, and Creators help him if he manages to cast a spell and sees snippets of his paramour dancing with the crackling of his lightning. 

__

_When Athera asked Dorian to teach him how to read in common tongue, he really did not know what to expect. Well maybe he figured Dorian would laugh at him for mispronouncing simple words such as ‘cookies’ but if it was Dorian then he didn’t actually mind. The problem with being the Inquisitor is that you didn’t just have to talk--oh no, Creators that’s just not enough. He also had to read in a language far from him. They decided to kill two birds with one stone by practicing his reading skills with the letters addressed to him._

_They were in the alcove, Dorian on his usual seat with Athera on the floor, his back supported by Dorian’s leg. They have been reading the same letter for over half an hour and it’s beginning to make his head hurt. Why didn’t Orlesians just stop using such flowery words and go straight to the point? Perhaps to spite him._

_“Val Royucks?” He attempted._

_“Val Royeaux,” Dorian corrected._

_Athera groaned, banging his head on Dorian’s leg. “Did they maybe think about spelling it the way it sounds?”_

_“And what fun would that be, Amatus,” the mage laughed. “I do, in fact, enjoy seeing you struggle.”_

_“Funny,” he deadpanned. “I didn't peg you as a sadist.”_

_Dorian flicked the tip of Athera’s ear. “You’re stalling.”_

_He squinted. “Tree-yoom--fant.”_

_“Triumphant.”_

_“Andraste’s **tits**.” _

__

“....they managed to run into one of the Friends of the Red Jenny in Val Royeaux,” he says, encircling the location on the map flashed on the screen. “We--They...” he tries so hard to detach. “They were triumphant in seeking out another member of the Inquisition.”

He remembers Sera; she was ultimately the last one to go. She had been very stubborn about her own death ‘til the end. Her last words being “I forgot to give you my cookie recipe. Piss!” well that or something random about a girl. 

“Piss.” He paused, his students staring at him in curiosity. He feels his face heat up. “My apologies.” 

 

 

 

“You seem upset,” Cole said upon his return in their shared home. He throws his books on the table and his bag on the floor. He trudges to the couch, throwing himself face down on the pillows. “Whispers of the past, haunting, painful, lonely. Are you...alright?”

“I’m good,” Athera said, voice muffled by the pillows. “How was your day?” 

“I met a girl filled with old songs,” Cole frowned. “I made her forget.” 

Athera hummed, already accustomed to his riddles. “Forgiveness?” 

Cole’s frown deepend. “Only forget. She isn’t willing to give that.”

“I’m surprised,” the elf says, turning his head so he could talk properly. “Have you lost your spiritual touch?”

“I did not touch her,” Cole says. 

“Of course,” Athera nods. There is a natural silence that falls upon them, both are accustomed to such a thing. At first, Cole would be quick to supply various topics from flowers to things he likes about trees but now it seemed like he thrived in silence as well. The elf found himself playing with the loose thread on the pillow, frowning and thinking if this is what life has come to...playing with thread. He shifts so he’s lying supine on the couch. “I’m sorry about this morning.” 

He hears shuffling, figures that Cole must be moving so that he could sit on the kitchen island. “It’s okay.” 

“Everything’s been...” Athera trailed off. “Harder to tame lately.” 

“Him. Tanned skin and grey eyes that seemed like mercury. Raven hair. Shines. Bright. Blinding,” Cole hummed, then his voice shifted. _“I do not wish to leave you, Amatus.”_

“I’ll--” Athera choked. “I have nothing to say.” 

“Soon, Athera,” the blond says wistfully. “Fates intertwined. It is destiny.” 

“If you’re talking about death then yes let me just die,” Athera said, then paused. “But you might be lonely so nevermind.” 

Cole gives out a breathy laugh. “I would be.” Athera replies with a light laugh of his own. Another silence. It seems like the end of their conversation as a whole. 

 

_Athera tiredly closed the door to his quarters, almost having to drag his feet as he continued on inside. He was exhausted and sore in places he did not wish to be sore. How long did that meeting last? He looks out the windows, sees the sun setting. Apparently, he skipped two meals today. He hasn’t even visited Dorian in his alcove yet, no doubt enjoying the books that had just arrived yesterday morning._

_A snort. “You seem quite energetic, Inquisitor.”_

_Athera stiffens in surprise then gave Dorian, who was lying on their bed reading a book, a faux glare. “Ecstatic.”_

_“I can see it now,” Dorian says, waving his hand in front of him. “The Inquisitor--the Mighty Herald of Andraste--shot down by a meeting with his councilors.” Athera walks towards the bed, completely ignoring Dorian’s statement, and lies down with his head propped up on Dorian’s legs. “And you, out of all these pillows I’ve ordered from Orlais, choose my legs as your headrest? I am honored.”_

_“Truly you should be, ma’nehn,” he grinned. “Only the best of the best can become my headrest.”_

_“That may be so but I am far too pretty to be a headrest,” Dorian quips. He then looks up as an afterthought. “Though the Herald’s Headrest was a title I once aspired for.”_

_Athera laughed, then said. “Ridiculous.”_

_Dorian rakes his fingers through the elf’s hair thoughtfully making Athera close his eyes and sighs contentedly. “I didn’t see you during meals so I’ve asked for some bread, grapes, and cheese to be sent up here...would you like that?”_

_“Absolutely. I’m famished,” he replied. “I would eat you if I could.”_

_“Maybe save that for later, Amatus.”_

__

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and even after years of having a phone, he still can’t believe humans would create such a thing. At first he did not need one since Cole was the only friend he had and the only one he was communicating with but after awhile of getting to know reality again, he found the need for it especially if his co-workers wanted to bitch about their principal. He opened his group message with his friends from the school.

 **Eva** : Meeting tomorrow

 **Maxwell** : How bad could it be?

 **Eva** : At--wait for it--6AM

 **Maxwell** : Ah, shit. 

**Athera** : All of us?

 **Eva** : Would I be sending this in our groupchat if it wasn’t all of us? I swear you are a dingus.

 **Athera** : You wound me.

 **Maxwell** : Must we all fight? You are both beautiful creatures.

 

 **Athera** : And this has nothing with your fondness for elves?

 **Maxwell** : Me? Compliment you only for being biologically beautiful? Perish the thought.

He shuts his phone. He has nothing against phones and modern technology but if he was to be exposed too long, he gets a proper headache. It’s just...too much for him. He knows technology will only become more advanced than it was and he’s sure that if he could not be killed by Corypheus then modern technology surely can do the job. 

His friends in his college, namely Maxwell and Eva, knew about him being the Inquisitor. They were the only ones in the whole school who knew--well minus the principal because the school was government owned and that’s what makes it easier for Athera to hide his own identity. He’s not exactly _trying_ per se but he tries to keep a low profile even though he knows some his students have figured him out. It’s complicated. 

There is not much nature anymore, he’s noticed. Everywhere he goes there will always be some sort of infrastructure and, gods forbid, artificial grass. What was the point of it all? He hardly feels connected to anything now. He’s like this wisp of light spiralling into a dark abyss with no sense of direction whatsoever. Creators help him if he can do anything about this. 

“Rest, Inquisitor,” Cole says quietly, sensing his distress. 

Athera feels a nostalgic pull when Cole referred to him as ‘Inquisitor’. It was enough to know that he had someone. It was enough to have someone by his side to confirm that the things that happened...happened. It was enough that he had his memories. It was enough--how long did he have to tell himself that to believe it? “Tomorrow again, Cole.” 

Cole frowns as he watched the elf. “I shall wake you.”

 

 

 

Athera yawned loudly as he sat down beside Maxwell, a mathematics professor. All the professors and few chosen interns were called for a short meeting and the meeting just _couldn't_ be in the afternoon where he didn't have to wake up three hours earlier than he usually did. "I am exhausted."

Maxwell snorted. "That's what you get for being a thousand years old."

"A brightside to it? No wrinkles," Athera quipped.

"Oh how true," Maxwell said, nodding in agreement. "Do you know what might this meeting be about?"

Eva, a snarky elf who claimed she was dating an egg, rolled her chair towards them then leaned into Athera. "I heard that there might be new teachers. Oh the agony."

"I find it exciting," Athera said. "I'm quite tired of your faces."

"You wound me," Eva said flatly, putting a hand on her chest in mock-hurt.

Maxwell snorted. "You? A wounded heart? Glorious."

Athera shook his head, smiling fondly. They have been good companions for awhile and he would not replace them for anything. He watches as the other professors pour in, all as equally as tired as he and his two companions were. They had, in their hands, a cup of that vile liquid called ‘coffee’. Athera drank it once and it felt like he was on ‘haste’ for three hours and he was fairly sure he would die and so he never drank it again. He also hated bitter things. The mindless chatter began to numb his mind, the droning seemed to make him fall asleep. 

“You alright, Athera?” Maxwell asked from his side. 

Athera massaged his temples. “I’m just exhausted. It’s nothing to worry about.” 

Maxwell was about to say something else but the principal had already entered the room. They glare at him subtly, they glare at the cause of their headaches. The principal herself was a cheery old woman who had, in her eyes, a twinkle of authority and vindication. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” they chorused. Athera almost laughed at how dead they sounded. He allows the principal to drone on and on and on about formalities and such but evidently he blocked it all out as he concentrated on getting rid of his headache. He still wonders how such a woman could wake up at such an ungodly hour in the morning and think it’s fine to make her staff do the same. 

Eva nudged him. “I told you we have newbies.” 

“Joy,” Athera deadpanned. 

Maxwell snorted. “At least sound excited. 

“How _joyous_ ,” Athera says in the same tone. He watches the principal go out the door to supposedly retrieve their ‘new recruits’. “Why does she find the need to have a--” 

Athera’s eyes widened, heart stopped, with his words lost in the air. He watches as a man with tan skin, lean muscles, grey eyes, and that stupid mark by his eye enter the room along with a brutish man who towered over him. He tries to swallow but can’t. Maxwell and Eva exchanged knowing glances as they watched Athera mentally stumbled over himself. He almost says words that were long forgotten, he almost says it but couldn’t. The man catches him staring and smirks. _Creators_. He watched him age and die. This--This is---

“Dorian Pavus,” the man says with a graceful bow, then adds, “the second.” 

“Vishante Kaffas,” Athera let slip. He leans back on his chair, dumbfounded. He must surely be dreaming again. 

Eva stares. “You know Tevene?” 

“This and that,” Athera says, waving his hand dismissively. 

The brutish man gives out a grunt. “Coach Bull.”

Athera did not even pay much attention to ‘Coach Bull’ and when he forced himself to look, he sees Iron Bull--no--this time it was Coach Bull... _apparently_. He feels himself shrink and, if he was honest, he’d love to literally die now but he can’t seem to do so. “Someone kill me.” 

“What made you think I wasn’t trying to?” Eva deadpanned. It was a joke, he knew, but he wished it wasn’t. “Are you quite alright? You’re...pale.” 

Maxwell snorted. “It seems one of our newcomers caught his eye.” 

“Do tell,” Eva grinned, scooting closer to them. 

Athera’s ears twitched, indicating discomfort. He was about to pass it off as a joke but ‘Dorian’ catches his gaze again and locks it. He feels the world stop as he stared into those familiar grey eyes, but it was wrong. It was so wrong. Those eyes used to encompass so many emotions: anger, happiness, _love_ , fear, pride, and fondness all at the same time but now they just looked stormy and so...blank. He knew, for sure, this wasn’t his Dorian of the past. No one ever could be. He forced himself to smile, then look away. “Can we drop this?” 

He observed Dorian further, then frowned. There was nothing wrong, nothing in disarray and that was his problem. It was like Dorian went out on a long trip then came back in a suit--or was what he was wearing called a tux? Evidently, in this life, he still loved to overdress. Oh _Maker_ he didn’t know he’d get excited to see Dorian in anything other than red scarves, nude, or flashy robes. He was as beautiful as the day they first met all those years ago. 

Athera tries to deny the quick bolt he did when the principal dismissed them. No. Never. Not again. He feels a magnetic pull when he puts distance between them and it might be his imagination or it might just be because they were--no. He will not dare think of that. This Dorian deserves happiness and a normal life, something he can’t provide. He tried not to curse the gods for doing this to him. If they were to put someone such as Dorian back in this world again, why now? Why not earlier? Why not when his heart was freshly yearning for him? 

So many questions that he wants to know the answers to, but afraid to know as well. Dorian could have been reincarnated in another place. Was the world truly so small that they were to meet again? Was it fate? Was it the nightly prayers he did just to get him back? Would this Dorian even be the same? Would he love--he takes a shaky breath--would he love him back? Athera cannot possibly handle it well if he is shunned.

And even if they did come to love each other---would he deserve it? His heart leaps only for him and he, even way before, breathes for him. The only damn thing that is keeping him on this world was the mere promise he made all those years. 

 

_Dorian went to his alcove, surprised to see Athera scanning the shelves with a frustrated look on his face. “Amatus?”_

_Athera stiffens, then fully turns to face him. He looked as if he was caught in the middle of a forbidden act. “You’re up. I was just doing research.”_

_“Research? What about?” Dorian asked, curious. “I may be able to help.”_

_“ _Kaffas_. Have our scholars really gone so low?” Athera said through gritted teeth. Normally, Dorian would tease him about adapting Tevene words into his vocabulary, but today it goes unnoticed. “Sure there are books on the many ulcers the queen of centuries ago had, but a book that is actually useful? Perish the thought.” _

_Dorian crossed his arms, a brow raised. “What is this really about, Athera?”_

_At the mention of his name, his shoulders sag. “I--I want to die.” Dorian opens his mouth to protest, but the elf cuts him off. “I don’t want to watch all of you wither and age. I want to be able to die with you. What is the point of this life if everything--everything that I love and know goes away with time? And what? Everyone forgets you and I’d be this Inquisitor stripped of his title, alone, and isolated. I don’t--I don’t want to watch you die” Athera’s voice cracked. “I don’t want you to leave me, Dorian.”_

_“Die for me? How foolish of you.” Dorian’s eyes softened, he lets his arms fall to his side. “You--to be able to live an immortal life must mean something and I don’t want to strip that away from you. I love you and I do wish to grow old with you, but you have a greater mission in this world--”_

_“Damn it all,” Athera snarled. “What use do I have if a piece of me dies with you?”_

_“I’d rather you live for me,” Dorian says patiently, lovingly. “I’d rather you live and see what this world we created and saved becomes. Dying is easy, not even a sacrifice. You could have died numerous times, but for you to live for me? Romantic.”_

_Athera looked away, out the window. “There are times that I’d give you anything that you wanted, but this...this is something impossible for me to give.”_

_Dorian crosses the distance between and hesitates, Athera did not like to be touched when upset. He slowly and gently held his hand, releasing a sigh when Athera interlaced their fingers. “Won’t you please live for me? Every breath you take, dedicate it to me. Every morning that you wake, think of me. Athera, there will never be a world wherein I leave you. I will not leave you.”_

_“Death, for you, is inevitable,” Athera sighed, finally looking at Dorian’s eyes. “Would you really have me live for you knowing that whenever I think of you it is both love and pain? You’d rather subject me to such torture?”_

_“Then don’t live for me,” Dorian simply says. “Wait for me.”_

_“Wait?” Athera repeated._

_“Wait for me,” Dorian said. “Who knows? A reincarnate of mine to be with you in the future?”_

_“Reincarnation is such a flimsy thing,” Athera exclaimed. “Hardly even feasible! How--why?”_

_“I will not have you die for me,” Dorian pressed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. Let me not regret this relationship.”_

_Athera sighed, frustrated. “You’re so selfish!” The elf gave him a glare which melted into a fond yet tired smile. “How you manage to make such selfish and uncompromising requests, I will never truly understand, ma’nehn.”_

_Dorian barked out a laughed. “It’s hard to argue with a man like me. I thought you’ve learned.”_

_“I promise to live for you,” Athera said, then paused. He feels the weight of his words and he knows it’s something he must not stray away from--can’t stay away from so he says something that can possibly give me an escape in the future. “ **But** only for as long as I can endure.” _

_“Why must I love a stubborn man,” Dorian said, trying to sound like a damsel. He forces himself not to argue anymore, forces himself not to think of the future of his lover. Dorian tries to see him now for what he is--the man he loves, a man who is alive and in front of him. ”But at least you’ll try.”_

_“So...you love me?” Athera smirked._

_Dorian rolled his eyes. “Does it surprise you?”_

_“I love you too, ma’nehn_

__


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: rape-y vibe 
> 
> Slow build is an actual hell to write. I keep typing and re-typing "I love you" as if it will help me.

Athera avoids both Dorian and Coach Bull like the fucking blight.

 

It turns out Dorian was a professor of three departments--science, magic, and literature---and it did surprise most but not Athera. He’d be shocked if a reincarnate of his Dorian would be any less intelligent as the mage once was. Athera tries-- _really tries_ \--to avoid both of the reincarnates because he feels like it might just end up crashing and burning if ever there is any interaction involved. He’s afraid of the unknown outcome. 

He may be avoiding them but that doesn’t stop Maxwell and Eva from telling him stories about them, his own reactions too subtle for his friends to pick up. Maxwell told him of Dorian’s wit and sarcasm _’you’ll surely fall in love with him’._ Eva talks about how Coach Bull seemed to be brutish and merciless but was able to move with grace to which he had to stop himself from laughing because the bull...graceful? _Vishante Kaffas_. 

Athera has been doing good so far, minus the fact wherein he tiptoed around Cole, who probably already knew what was happening but was kind enough to not bring it up. He has to admit that he feels his heart skip a beat and his stomach churn whenever he catches a glimpse of Dorian and-- _festis bei umo cunaverum_ \--he contemplates on quitting his job but then his damn pride exists.

“Are you okay?” Maxwell asked as he sat down beside Athera. 

Athera leaned back on his chair, tired. He covered his eyes with his arms with a sigh “I want to vomit.” It’s probably the pizza he and Cole ordered when he got too despondent to cook.

Maxwell frowned, looking at Eva for some kind of help but she only shrugged. “Something I can help you with?”

“Kill me,” Athera laughed. “As if you could.” 

“Is that a challenge?” Eva asked as she munched on her toast. Maxwell gave her a look-- _now is not the time_ \--then gazed worriedly at Athera who was still slumped over his chair. “You worry too much, Max. He’s fine, just being dramatic.”

Athera raised his head to glare at her. “Thanks, Eva.” 

Athera’s ear twitched when he heard the door to their faculty open and then close. He freezes when he hears that familiar melodic laugh. “ _You’re too particular about the ‘expiry date’ of your sports shoes for someone who detests showers, Bull._.” He ducks his head instinctively and pretends that his feet are far more interesting than anything in this world. 

Eva smirked. “Maxwell, are you _inlove_ with our little elf here?” 

Maxwell snorted, rolling his eyes. “He’s a beautiful man, but I prefer them with...vaginas.”

Eva wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ew.”

“Eva,” Athera said. “ _You_ have a vagina.”

 

Athera knew that both Maxwell and _maybe_ Eva was worried about him, but he could not, for the life of him, bring himself to tell them anything. What the hell could he possibly tell them anyway? The stupidly handsome and perfect Dorian Pavus he once dated centuries ago is now reincarnated as a modernized _still_ stupidly handsome Dorian Pavus II. Who in Creator’s name even named their child after members of the Inquisiton anyway? Who gave them the right? 

Maxwell began to converse with Eva about something he knew nothing of. It was maybe something about how Eva could make her life a bit easier while juggling her studies as well as her internship in this university. He feels himself swinging in his chair, eyes on the ceiling, and mind blank. He could almost feel himself getting lost in the swishing and swaying he was doing with his computer chair which, no doubt, would be worn out in no time. Athera tried to remember how hard it was back then, how he had to wake up before the ass crack of dawn just so he could go charge at the world and possibly get himself killed. But now he woke up at normal hours just to go to work in proper clothes and all he had to worry about is forgetting something as controversial as a USB filled with lesson plans. Oh how times have changed. For the better? Who knows.

Kirkwall, he knew it was advancing, but who would have expected for it to be _this_ different. He once tried to visit Skyhold, but of course people were roaming around the area since it is now just a tourist attraction. The once familiar halls he once roamed around in are now littered with trash and teenagers who used it as an aesthetically pleasing back drop for their pictures or sketches. He went to his quarters, saw that it had lost all it’s sentimentality. Everything was, how they say, renovated and ‘fixed’. The bed was no longer the same nor was the fixtures. It was less _austere_. He could not bear to look at it. He ran to the alcove—Dorian’s alcove—and it was wrong. Everything was wrong. The books were changed and the chair was repositioned and refurnished. Dorian’s presence was no longer there.

 

__

_“I see you like to play with fire, Inquisitor.”_

_“…This is where I finally lose him.”_

_“Amatus, you’ve come to fetch me?”_

_“Do you need anything, my Inquisitor?”_

_“You kept me waiting.”_

__

 

Gone. All gone. 

He didn’t understand why they had to do it so he asked for an explanation, albeit too harshly. All he received was an apologetic expression and a very superficial excuse. It was something about making the place more ‘beautiful’. Was it not beautiful before they had destroyed it? Was it not beautiful when the echoes of history rang through the halls and blended in the wind? Was it not beautiful the way it was left? Every mark, every imprint, every laughter, every pain, and every thing. Gone. Stripped. For what? For a beauty he himself could not even see? Athera, of course, smiled and nodded. It pained him to do so, but what could he do? Tell them that the stack of dog eared books left beside the red couch in the alcove meant so much more to him than whatever the hell they wanted to do with Skyhold?

Anyway, the changes were made a long time ago and he has since then come to terms with whatever has been done with the now very well known tourist spot. He used to visit the place with Cole, but stopped. Apparently, Cole was more upset about the changes than he was, claimed that he could not feel anyone anymore. Athera felt a bit similarly, but also differently all at the same time. The more he visited, the more he forgot himself. On their twentieth visit, he was so sure that the chair in the alcove was a brownish red, but Cole had argued about it being blood red. On their twenty-fifth visit, he asked Cole if his own quarters looked more or less austere to which the boy replied with ‘Inquisitor, they have made all items backwards’. Was his bed not really facing that direction? On their thirtieth visit, the war room was a souvenir shop.

Cole. 

Athera is pretty proud of how far the boy came in terms of keeping up with the modernization of the world. Sure, he had trouble with comprehending but Athera had been patient enough to explain everything bit by bit. Cole tried to find a normal job, often upset when rejected. It was perhaps—it _is_ —because of his peculiarity with words and his vague and riddle wrapped responses. The elf did not have the heart to explain this to him…what would he even say? “Uh, it’s because you are you”. No. NO. Athera decided to help a bit by telling the government about his special case. The government, of course, favored him and came up with a way for Cole to find something to do, something to work on. They accepted him as a therapist, able to help with traumatized women and soldiers and even couples on the brink of a divorce.

 

But that was all before he fell into another slump, he often forgot about the boy, finding himself too locked up in his own misery. A pang of guilt hits him. When was the last time he ever talked to Cole without the motive of releasing some well kept pain. Cole was far too good to be abused by the likes of him. Athera is lucky to even have a companion such as Cole, he was patient with the elf no matter what happened. When he broke down—literally flip the tables and shatter vases—Cole had been there to ease his pain. He had been there to listen to everything. How had he repaid him? Years and years of being ornery and far too exhausted to even hold a proper conversation without the aid of alcohol. He’ll have to make it up to Cole soon but the boy will, no doubt, tell him that the elf’s own happiness will make him happy. He’ll have to do it with subtlety. 

“Athera!” 

Athera nearly fell off his chair. “What?”

“What do you say?” Maxwell asked, eyes sparkling with mischief. The elf tilted his head in confusion.

Eva rolled her eyes. “He spaced out on us, Max.”

“ _Maker_ ,” Maxwell sighed, then released a breathy laugh. “We’re going to this newly opened tavern this Saturday. You should come.”

“As long as I don’t have to be Eva’s guardian,” Athera said, wincing when the said girl hit his shoulder. He figured that it was time for a little bit of fun after days of mulling over the fact that his lover was reincarnated and years of being depressed over a lover who ceased to exist for centuries. 

Eva grinned. “I see we have a newly changed man in our hands.” 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Athera said, standing. “I have a class to attend to.” 

Maxwell scoffed. “Of course, my Lord.” 

Athera groaned. “Don’t.” 

Athera excused himself once again as he gathered his things to leave for his next class. He had to discuss the origins of the Tevinter Imperium now and it pains him to mention their economic reliance on slavery. His Dorian, the voice against corruption, made sure to abolish slavery and blood magic with Maeveris by his side. The Liberati has garnered representation in the magisterium as well as removing themselves from the categorical label that is ‘sub-class’ but it took years of easing into. There is no more legal slavery to speak of but, of course, it led to rather petty discrimination amongst humans and elves. Creators forbid the negativity that pummels down upon relationships that involved an elf and a human, especially those of romantic in context. 

'The evident highbrowism of my idiot countrymen is astounding.' Dorian had once said. His fingers had ran through his hair, which was already unkempt from the start. The stress had drowned him. Athera kissed him then, humming that the country would turn out fine. 

'Maker, help and forgive me. I want to create something that can outlive me.' Outlive. It had hit him then. Hard. Now, not so. Whenever he hears how much Tevinter has rised from its own prejudiced and bloodied ashes, his chest swells with pride. ( _’My Dorian did that!’_ ).

 

 

_“The evident highbrowism of my idiot countrymen is astounding,” Dorian growled, fingers raking through his already unkempt hair in frustration. He was tired, awake, and stressed. Athera watched him from their shared bed—well shared bed while Athera was there to visit—the elf frowned at his lover who seemed to work until his resolution dropped. It never did. It almost had. The elf unballed himself and softly walked towards his mage, leaning in to kiss his temple. He smiled, relieved, when Dorian’s brows unknitted and a smile made its way to his lips._

_“You can do it, ma’nehn,” Athera said softly. His hands gently unknotting the balls of tension in Dorian’s back. “If you’re sat there with work instead of ravishing me then really some good should come out of it, right?”_

_A snort. “Oh, you are wonderful.”_

_“So I’ve been told,” Athera smiled._

_“Maker, help and forgive me. I want to create something that can outlive me,’ Dorian groaned, resting his head on the chair’s back rest so he could look at Athera. Athera’s hands suddenly stopped moving and his face drained of all emotion to which Dorian replied with a curious gaze. “I—I said something wrong?” Realization. “Oh—Oh I…Amatus, I did not mean—“_

_Athera pulled away. “I know what you meant, ma’nehn.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Dorian sighed. “I mean no harm in my words.”_

_“I know,” Athera repeated, holding himself—shielding himself. He sighed, forcing his arms to fall by his side. Athera looked at him with determination and fear in his eyes. “I’ll be glad to see the outcome of your martyrdom and heroism, ma’nehn.”_

_Dorian smiled, hesitantly. “This is why I adore you so.”_

__

 

 

"Ah, shit," he swore, remembering that he forgot to borrow a book from the library on Tevinter history. He may have lived it but he still needed a guide of some sort and that book is the most accurate out of all the books he has ever encountered. He made a sharp turn towards the library, his steps becoming hurried. 

Athera loved the university's library, it was quiet and all that echoed within the room were the turning of pages. The clouds moved in it's usual languid pace as the sunlight seeped through the glass walls, it almost looked ethereal. There would be times wherein he came here to watch the devotion of the sun as it kissed the horizon and the horizon kissed back, sometimes he’d watch the trees dance with the wind and it somehow reminded him of Orlesian parties as people danced and tiptoed around each other to avoid unwanted words and attention. The shelves were made of hardwood that sang of age and history as they towered over the elf. He navigated through the shelves and tables, finding himself in a section marked with a sign of "History" hanging above. 

His eyes scanned each of the book spines, knowing exactly what it looked like. He craned his upwards and found that the book he was looking for was slightly overhead. _Oh haha make fun of the damned elf_. Athera frowned, trying to stretch his body further, desperately trying to reach it on his tiptoes but his fingers barely grazed the edge. How out of shape was he anyway? He was beginning to sweat. He spots a hand reach for the book with ease. 

Athera releases a sigh as he went back to his non-awkward and comfortable position. "Thank you."

He turns to see grey eyes and tanned skin and Creators, help him, he is frozen. "Oh, did you need this?"

"I--" he composes himself. "Yeah, I need it for a class."

Dorian frowned. "Pity. They have remarkably little here of early Tevinter history."

"Is that so?" Athera said. Beautiful. Shining. Bright. Blinding. ”It's all yours after my next class then."

"Rather presumptuous of me to be reading on history when I already teach in three departments," Dorian said.

"Are you showing off, sir Pavus," Athera said, raising a brow. 

"Perhaps." Dorian smirked. "At any rate, I do not want to be the cause of your delay. Here."

"Thank y--" he feels Dorians hand press through his gloved left hand. He immediately pulls away with a gasp, his right hand clutching his left on his chest. The drop of the book echoes loudly. What was that? His body reacted on its own, rejecting the touch. He looked up to see Dorian who had a curious, almost pained look. "I'm--I'm so sorry. I don't know why--"

Dorian waved his hand dismissively, then leaned down to reach for the book. He hands the book to Athera, who notices that Dorian keeps his hand at the very edge of the book. "Off with you now."

Athera frowns, guilty. "Thank you. Sorry." Then he runs off.

 

The only thing on his mind during his lecture was the fact that he pulled away from a fleeting touch—Dorian’s touch. What was wrong with him? He had gloves on and he was used to touching…a lie, he realized. He had not been well acquainted to touch. When he _was_ touched, it would always be expected (Eva’s constant nudging) or it would always be to his own accord (patting Cole’s back as he vomited his nuggets) but this touch? Such innocence, omitted by someone that held so much beauty—a beauty he could never forget even with the ticking of time. Oh, time. But Dorian, this Dorian, was not just pure beauty. He was brains and he’d be _damned_ if he didn’t even notice it at all. A Tevene man who did lectures on magic, literature, and science. A man who had much to hold and much to take pride in. 

Athera stopped himself there. _No. **No**_

 

“Sir?” 

He snapped back into reality, his mouth in an ‘o’ form. “Yes?” 

“You have been staring at nothing,” a student said, voice laced with curiosity and judgement with a little bit of impatience. “And murmuring ‘no’.” 

“Right,” Athera said, looking up at his slides. “The Tevinter Imperium was founded by one of the several tribes that originally resided in Thedas. A prolific bunch, they were.” 

His students began to uninterestedly jot down notes. Of course. He began to detach again, his mind wandering to Dorian and the way it felt to touch his hand again—the way it felt to touch his hand? Come to think of it. When they touched, it was not familiar. It was not something he was accustomed to no matter how many times he’s held his Dorian’s hand before. It was different. He could not, for the life of him, figure out why. It was the same but it was not. When they talked, he fell into the same easiness before but their conversation did not consist of him thinking about his Dorian. He was merely thinking about what to say next and the glint in his eyes. What was this? 

He did not forget his Dorian in the midst of this reincarnated one, it is simply impossible to forget that man. Athera has managed to push back all thoughts concerning the past to the back of his mind as he stared at a new idealistic modernized man who seemed to re-capture his attention. It was rare for him to just not think about the past, he’d often have to be drunk. It was practically a requirement. Athera clicked his tongue, it may have just been a trick of his mind. He’ll have to look into it more later on, but not now. 

 

 

 

Dorian returned to his cubicle after three continuous and seemingly never ending lectures, his back ached and, strangely, his jaw. He can practically feel the knots forming on his back, but he was happy to be sharing knowledge to those who are thirsty for it. An out of place item on his desk catches his eye, then he smiles. There on his desk was a dog eared rustic book of the early Tevinter history. His fingers traced the faded gold title on the cover, his smile growing wider. He looks to the elf’s cubicle, seeing that the culprit was rather heavily focused on a book that looked strangely like a book on Orlesian history.

* * *

“You do not need to,” a voice says. 

Athera practically jumped out of his skin. “Cole, please do knock.”

“I did,” Cole frowned. “Then I went in.”

Athera shook his head. “You mentioned something about no need to do something? Not do what, exactly?” 

“Make me happy,” Cole said. “I am already happy now that you are.” 

“I knew you’d say that,” the elf sighed. He ruffled his hair nervously, unsure. “I wanted to make you…happy…for once.” 

A smile broke through Cole’s face, it was so big that Athera was sure that it almost split his face in half. “No one has ever done that before, Inquisitor. Thank you.” Athera’s heart pounded slightly with sheer anxiety. Would Cole even like what he has prepared? “I accept all that is given to me.”

“Ugh,” Athera grunted, shoving a box towards Cole. “ _Here_. I’m so sorry.” 

Cole opened the box, if his grin could grow any wider, it did. “A hat!” 

“I also made those lemon things you like just in case the hat is not suited to your tastes,” Athera rambled, blushing profusely. It was so _awkward_. How Cole managed to do this as both leisure and work, he will never know. 

“A hat!” Cole repeated. “Thank you.”

“Do you like it?” Athera asked, chewing on his lip. 

“I am happy,” Cole responded. 

Athera let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “ _Creators_. I’m glad.” 

 

 

They settled on the kitchen island, eating the ‘lemon things’ that Cole liked. Athera mostly just aimed for one slice since he knew it will make him sick. Cole talked animatedly about his day, his likes and dislikes, his thoughts on his clients, his new hat, and his adventures whenever he went out and explored on his own. Athera would nod along, smiling. It seems like this is the Cole he’s been missing and it took an embarrassingly long time to get him back. He felt a sense of peace as the sides of Cole’s eyes crinkled with mirth and, suddenly, he looked so young again—less troubled. He had never realized it but Cole never seemed to smile around him anymore. Today is the first time he’s seeing it again, such rarity that it almost breaks his heart. Athera figured that the only reason why Cole stayed with him is because that is where his loyalty lies and is still heavily devoted to the already disbanded Inquisition. 

“Friendship,” Cole suddenly says. 

Athera smiled, understanding. “Is that so?” 

Cole nodded carefully, hesitant. “Of course, Athera.” 

A pause, then Cole continued to talk continuously and passionately about his job as a therapist. Another pause. “What are these lemon things called?”

Athera shrugged. “Just lemon things.” 

“They are my favorite,” Cole said, biting into a slice. 

“Have you any luck with Couple A?” Athera asked. He did not know the names of Cole’s clients for the sake of confidentiality, it was something decided by the higher ups and it took Cole awhile to get used to. 

“The girl does not love him,” Cole responded, frowning. “ _Duty. Right thing to do. Be with him. Not happy but not sad. No sparks. No nothing._ ” 

“Oh.” 

“The boy does not love her either, he thinks he loves another,” Cole continued. 

“Thinks?” 

Cole hummed. “ _Such tan skin. Youthful eyes, the she that pummels down all shes. Bring me back. Nostalgia mistaken as true love. Longing. Away. Away. Take me away._ ” 

“Well—“ Athera trailed off. “What do you say to that?” 

“I try to make them forget.” Cole was reaching for another lemon thing, not even noticing the crumbs on the corner of his lips, Athera smiles at this. “But they will not—cannot. There is no pain or happiness.”

“Why try?” Athera asked. 

“Because the lack of feeling brings them suffering,” Cole sighed. “It’s…hard.” 

The elf tries to keep the headache, that he suddenly got, at bay. “I’m quite lost there.” 

“How is school, Athera?” Cole asked, deciding to change the topic.

“This and that,” Athera said, dismissively. “Maxwell and Eva are still bickering, as per usual. I swear they are like an old married couple sometimes. They invited me to go to this new tavern somewhere this weekend which I am excited about.” 

“And what of Dorian?” Cole asked, suddenly. 

Athera sighed. “Right. I knew you were bound to ask. I don’t interact with him.”

“ _Grey eyes are not the same. The touch different. Talks with grace. Stands with poise. Laugh so syrupy, drag me into it. The same but different—different but still my heart ye—_ ”

“Usually,” Athera said, cutting him off. He’s positive that his face was akin to a tomato. “We _usually_ don’t interact. We only interacted once.” 

“I have told you. Soon,” Cole said, joggling Athera’s memories. “And now ‘soon’ came.” 

“You _knew_?” Athera exclaimed. “How? A warning would have been nice.” 

“Surprise,” Cole says weakly, yet he seems proud. “Destiny.” 

“There is no destiny to speak of,“ Athera sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’d rather not subject him to another round of pain due to my lack of skill in dying.” 

 

__

_Athera groaned and stretched as he woke up, loving and hating the sensation. He looked at the space beside him and frowned when it was empty. Did Dorian head to an early meeting? The sun has not even greeted them yet. The elf padded towards the washroom, almost screeching when he saw Dorian looking at himself in the mirror. He was about to crack a joke, but then he noticed something off. Dorian did not even notice him and Dorian was never one to pass up on details. His eyes wandered to Dorians hands, white knuckling the sink._

_He watched for a couple more seconds as Dorian glared at himself in the mirror with so much concentration that it almost felt like Athera was intruding. “Ma’nehn.”_

_Dorian’s shoulders relaxed, tired eyes finally landing on the elf. “Amatus.”_

_“What’s wrong?” Athera asked, slowly—almost gently as if he were about to break something with his words—walking towards his lover._

_“You’ll think me stupid,” Dorian sighed, letting his head drop._

_“I never do,” Athera replied._

_Dorian looked at him then, his head slightly raised. “I found a grey hair.”_

_Athera’s brows scrunched up together, not sure whether to respond with comforting words or a joke. “Well…my hair is all white.”_

_Dorian snorted. “You do manage to make me smile in the most dire hours.”_

_“Are you worried about ageing and the physical attributes that come with it?” Silence. “Ma’nehn, we’ve talked about this.”_

_“Well we have,” Dorian agreed. “When I was young with my skin still taut and what of my face years from now? Would you subject yourself to such burden? I could be your blighted grandfather a few years from now.”_

_Athera made Dorian fully face him, cupping his lover’s face as he did so. “You’re very beautiful, ma’nehn, grey hair will not change that.”_

_He seemed to deflate at his words. “Yes, but for how long?”_

_“Always.” Athera kissed the mark by Dorian’s eye. “You will always be beautiful.” A kiss. “Immaculate.” Another. “Breathtaking.” Another. “Charming.” Another. “Perfect.”_

_“Careful, Inquisitor,” Dorian weakly joked. “My ego has not only been stroked but pampered. It’ll grow, albeit viciously._

_“Then let it,” Athera smiled. “Or are you all talk?”_

_Dorian’s eyes crinkled fondly, noticing the familiarity in his words. “You are glorious.”_

__

 

Cole frowned, cocking his head to the side. “But you seem happier he’s there.”

“I do _not_.” Denial. 

“Right,” Cole said, disbelievingly. 

 

Had he been happier since Dorian’s arrival? Eva did mention a certain ‘spring in his step’ but he thought none of it. Well—he did stop having continuous dreams about his Dorian now, but the gaps were filled with nightmares; It is nothing he could not handle, he’s sure. Happier—huh— he never thought he would see the day.

* * *

It was finally _finally_ Saturday and Athera has been deciding on what to wear for the past two hours, trying to fight his meticulous urges but ultimately failing. Eva sent him the directions to the tavern and he was pleased to find out that it was just a mere few blocks away. He loved walking at night so it did not bother him to do so. 

Athera stared at himself in the mirror. What did the young people wear nowadays? _Creators_. Did _pants_ have to be so tight? He once theorized that maybe they made it like that to show his penis because _yes_ he had one and _yes_ he could live without showing it. He settled for a plain white shirt and black pants, looking at how distasteful he seemed to look. 

“You feel...odd,” Cole said from the couch, his chin propped up on his overlapped arms that rested on the backrest of the couch. 

“It’s been years since I last wore my tunic and I’m _still_ not quite accustomed to the way I look,” Athera said, frustrated. “And well shit do I have to style my hair?”

Cole cocked his head, right cheek resting on his arm. “You look pretty, Athera.” 

Athera blushed, not quite used to such genuine compliments. “Uh. Thanks, Cole.” 

Athera stared at himself in the mirror. A second. A minute. There was something missing. He traced random lines on his bare collarbone, something out of place. “Oh.” He disappeared into his room and came back with an amulet—the amulet. It was the amulet that contained his piece of the gemstone, a reminder of his long distance relationship with Dorian. He smiles genuinely, liking what he saw in the mirror for the first time. He wondered when exactly the amulet gave him nostalgic fondness instead of intense longing and denial, but did not dwell for too long. “I’ll be taking my leave.” 

Cole nodded. “I will distract myself with the talking box.” 

“Alright.” He smiled at the thought. Cole was either talking about the television or the radio.

When he stepped out of the house, the cool night air bit on his cheeks and turned it slightly pink. He hugged himself, considering going back and getting a jacket but he keeps walking anyway. All the lights seemed to flurry together, as if magnetized, and managed to look like a pathway of stars that gleamed and twinkled as he passed. It was almost as if they all came down from the heavens because they missed being with the world, but only for a while. They’d be back in the heavens soon and maybe the world was happy with what short visit they gave it. 

People were talking all around him and he so loved hearing them talk, feeling a bit weird whenever he realizes that other people had a different life from his own—a life he knows nothing about. He tried to not muddle all the voices together because he liked to grab all the little bits and pieces that he could. 

 

_“Yes, mom. I did eat dinner.”_

_“What do you mean our report crashed?”_

_“Answer me please. I need you.”_

_“Butter or margarine? They are **not** the same thing, Mahanon.” _

_“I love you.” No response afterwards._

__

Sometimes he liked to imagine that he was in someone else’s shoes, literally. He liked to see them wipe their hands on their pant legs and imagine what it might have felt like to have the denim scratch on the skin of their palms, he liked to look at strangers reading their books and imagine how the book must smell and feel on their fingertips. Athera loved to detach from his own body, finding that to pretend to be someone else is always entertaining. 

He would sometimes go out in the park with Cole and people watch. They would always try to guess what kind of life the person lived, narrating their thoughts and their movements. It took a lot of time to explain the game to Cole since he was confused, but they eventually understood each other--well, rather, reached a compromise. Athera would guess and Cole would narrate their real thoughts. Cole would always say the saddest things and ever since then, Athera became a little bit nicer to everyone since he was unaware of the hardships they were going through.

He fished out his phone when he felt it vibrate twice.

 **Maxwell:** Forgot about posting the student’s grades. Ugh. I’ll be late.

 **Eva:** I will be late.

 

Athera looked at the messages, then the tavern in front of him—the tavern they were supposed to meet in—and rolled his eyes with such passion. He replied ‘fine’ to both of them and then went in. Athera found a seat in the far corner, by the window, and then settled for that. He suppressed the urge to not roll his eyes when the servers looked at him with pity and _Maker_ the night is still so young. “I’m waiting for someone,” he says to the woman who gave him a menu, hoping that it would at least make him look less lonely.

The tavern itself had two floors, the second floor connected to another building that held all the rooms for those who were interested. The walls were bricked, occasionally gapped with rocky formations which saddened him because the rocks held no spirit to it. They were specks of real rocks mixed with something too artificial for him to sense. The tables and stools were all high and wooden, which made his legs annoyingly dangle. There was also a chimney in the far end that spiralled upwards into the ceiling and up to the sky. It was a nice.

He propped his chin up on his palm, elbow resting on the wooden table. Athera began to let his eyes wander around the room. The people in the room were mostly people around their mid-twenties considering that it is quite rare for teenagers to be in this kind of place. He briefly thinks of how Sera and Varric would like this place. Sera would cozy up to all the girls while Varric would sit in the corner either writing or drinking himself into a stupor. 

Athera jumped slightly when two glasses of beer was placed in front of him, followed by a body sliding in the seat in front of him. “Mind if I sit with you?” 

“Coach Bull,” Athera said, surprised. “I—No, I don’t mind.” 

“Alone?” Bull asked, pushing the other glass of beer towards Athera with a smirk. “I didn’t peg you as a loner.” 

“My friends are late,” Athera shrugged, wrapping his fingers around the glass. “And what of you?” 

“This and that,” Bull said dismissively. “Lavellan, was it?” 

“Lavellan,” Athera confirmed. 

“I’ve got a question,” Bull says, downing half of his beer. “Sort of a burning curiosity.” 

“Go for it,” Athera said, drinking his own beer. 

“Are you and that Maxwell kid something of an item?” He asked.

 _Andraste have mercy._ “No,” Athera said, making a face. “Not even a bit.”

Bull boomed with laughter. “Funny one, you are.” 

“I do try,” Athera shrugged, smiling. This familiarity is comforting, somewhat warming the chill in his bones. “So how are you and your team?”

“Ah, The Chargers.” Coach Bull seemed to gleam with both pride and ego, two very different things. Coach Bull directs and trains the wrestling team and the boxing team. “My pride and joy. They’re an amazing lot, strategical, analytical, and dam they’ve got some brutish force.” 

“I’ll be expecting some trophies then?” Athera grinned. 

Coach Bull puffed his chest out. “You better believe it, Lavellan. Shit lot all of them, won’t have a chance against us.”

Athera laughed. “Of course.” 

He didn’t know what happened but all of a sudden, there were more glasses than Athera could count and they weren’t even for him--only maybe two. Coach Bull, it seems, is a heavy drinker and the more he liked what he was talking about, the more he drank. It was both terrifying and amusing. Terrifying because he has been alcohol poison free for five months and it’s rather tempting and amused because of the fact that so little has changed in Bull. _Odd_ , Athera thought. It suddenly occurred to him that he easily compared Iron Bull to Coach Bull but with the Dorians he simply could not. Was it just because he is biased?

He so loved watching people talk about their passions, in this case, Bull talking about The Chargers and how the woman in the tight little apron seemed to hold a lot of secrets under those bows and ribbons. Athera smiled into his glass, carefully and slowly sipping. He does not trust this Coach Bull enough to let go of himself completely. He felt bad for such doubt, but it was better safe than sorry. Coach Bull is not Iron Bull, therefore, he doesn’t know him quite enough. 

Athera briefly wondered where the hell Maxwell and Eva are. They could not possibly be that troubled with things and how on earth did Maxwell forget his requirements? He was the second most responsible one in their little group. He tapped the rim of his glass absentmindedly, forcing himself to make eye contact. He never quite liked eye contact, feeling like his eyes were wonky or like he was revealing too much of himself. It’s odd, but his friends adapted to it quite nicely.

“So what are you teaching?” Bull asked, he seemed to order more beer. It seems like five is just not enough. Also, he drank as if his drink would run away if he didn’t down it fast enough. 

“History,” Athera said. 

Bull’s nose scrunched up. “Quite boring don’t you think?” 

Athera shrugged. “I quite like it.” 

“Weird. All of you,” Bull said, winking at the girl who served him drinks. “Dorian seems to _love_ teaching three god-awful subjects all at the same time. It makes my head feel like shit. Now, sports—“ A gulp of beer. “That gets the blood pumping through your veins. Smell of adrenaline. _Amazing_.”

“As you can see,” Athera said, raising arms. “I seem to not have the strength to do much of anything…except lie on my back.”

“Is that so?” Bull’s nose seemed to flare. 

Athera shrugged. “Ask Maxwell, he’ll agree to it.” 

“I see you are aware that you are good at things.” 

“I am good with many things.” 

“Interesting,” he smirked, putting down his glass. “What do you say you and me go up to one of their rooms here and…?” 

“And?” Athera urged, then froze. “You mean…?” 

“You catch on quick, Athera,” Bull said. His name was mentioned and it felt _so wrong_ to hear it roll off of Bull’s tongue. 

Athera starts to unconsciously push away, hands crossed in front of him. He still tried to keep a smile on his face. “I’m not your type.” 

Bull seemed to ravage him with his eyes, making him feel so violated and so small. “Oh but you are. What could be under that pretty shirt of yours? Do you scream or do you not? You seem to have caught my attention.” 

“The attention is unwanted,” Athera said, leaning back as far as he can without falling of the stool. 

“I know you want this.” 

_No._ “I do not want any of this.”

“With such a lonely face? It seems like you’re asking for it.”

“No.” 

“Always detached from yourself, always with that very tempting look of longing. You may not want it with me but your body craves it.”

“How did you--it doesn’t matter. My answer is no.”

 

Bull snorted. “You can’t possibly believe that I came here for friendly talk?”

“I was hoping for it to be nothing but that,” Athera quipped, white knuckling his left hand.

“Oh come on now, elf,” Bull said, reaching his hand forward. “It’ll be fun.”

Athera closed his eyes when he saw Bull reach out a hand to touch him, as if closing his eyes would even protect him. The touch never came. Instead, a grunt. He opened his eyes to see a hand clutching Bull’s wrist, shoving it towards the owner and away from Athera. It took him a moment to realize that it was Dorian and his heart _almost_ seized. “Dorian.” 

“Back off, Bull,” Dorian said, voice dangerously calm. 

“It was all just fun,” Bull said casually. 

Dorian looked at Athera, then glared at Bull. “I don’t think he wants to take part in your games.” 

“He did not drink enough beer,” Bull shrugged. “It’s normal.” 

“Back _off_ ,” Dorian said through gritted teeth.

Bull shrugged. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Pavus. I know you’re selfish.” 

Dorian stiffened, but said nothing. He merely glared until Bull got up and left them alone, disappearing upstairs. He turned back to Athera who seemed to have shrunk a bit. “Are you alright, Lavellan?” 

Such a sweet word his name became when it was Dorian who said it. “I’m quite fine. Thank you.” 

“I was watching you two interact and thought nothing of it. I actually came here with him and he said he’d talk to you about something in the university,” Dorian explained, shifting from foot to foot. “But then I saw you edge away and then he reached out to you, I figured you didn’t want to be touched.

Watching them interact? He tried to fight off a blush. “Are you stalking me, Sir Pavus?” Athera smirked, melting into a relaxed position once again.

Dorian snorted. “I do not stalk, that is for the immature.” 

“I see,” Athera smiled. “Thank you for stopping him. I would have done it, but I don’t really know what came over me.” 

“Think nothing of it,” Dorian said, returning his smile. His eyes seemed to dart to something behind Athera then looked back at him. “It seems that your friends are here, I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Do you always like to enter and exit dramatically?” Athera joked. 

Dorian backed away with a smirk gracing his lips. “Perhaps. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“See you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, they pushed me to write the last few paragraphs. Hope you like this one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got caught up with another gay couple but guess who's back with a more figured out plot line!!!! Me.

And see him on Monday he did. 

Dorian caught him hunched over a table in the far corner of the library on that bright Monday morning. Athera almost— _almost_ —choked on his breath, stumbled on his thoughts and lost all of his words. He heard his name being called and as he looked up, he saw the Tevinter mage walking towards him _**but**_ he wasn’t just walking towards him no, Creator’s no, he was walking towards him as the sun’s rays illuminated and beamed at him with such artistry that it almost made him look like he was descending from Andraste’s hands. 

The sun managed to wrap him around its clutches, lighting up his features and making his eyes twinkle more than they already did. The bronze of his skin seemed to stand for his affinity for flame, such a beautiful ember with the build of perfection. Today he wore a white long sleeved button up that was fitted to his physique rather beautifully, almost as if it were made to hug him in the right places. Gods forbid the crinkling by his eyes that were caused by him—Athera, he was smiling at _Athera_. Athera struggled to breathe, struggled to find the right words. Creators, have mercy. 

Athera smiled at him easily. “Sir Pavus, I hope you didn’t have to go through the trouble of looking for me.” 

Dorian sat down in front of him. Athera swallowed hard, he was made to sit in front of this man who was sat in the glow of the sunlight. He was blinding. “You flatter yourself. The weather is nice, is it not?” 

“It is,” Athera said, eye twitching. _And rather merciless_. “How was your weekend?” 

Dorian pursed his lips, crinkling the mark by his eye. “Nothing adventurous. I stopped Coach Bull from being an apparent ass to one of my co-workers and then I drank wine at home like a sad man.” 

“Why were you with him?” Athera asked. “Does he not offend?” 

“A rather complicated question,” Dorian said, laughing lightly. “We haven’t been on the best of terms so when we found out we were accepted to work in the same university, we decided to keep it civil and maybe go out for a drink or two.” 

“You two are a tad bit too close to be just civil,” Athera said, letting his gaze fall to his book. He attempted to read again. 

Dorian snorted. “Not having friends here does not exactly help, think of it as some sort of arranged friendship.”

Athera chuckled. “Like an arranged marriage? What a fitting comparison.” 

“Truly,” Dorian said, opening his own book to read it.

“If it bothers you so much then I can be your friend,” Athera smiled, warm. He raised his head to meet Dorian’s curious gaze.

Dorian cocked his head to the side. “Are we not friends already?” 

“Friends do not exactly call me ‘Lavellan’,” Athera said. “Call me ‘Athera’.”

“Athera,” Dorian tested, said person tried not to shiver with the mention of his name. “Is that not a feminine name?”

“Right,” Athera cleared his throat, blushing. “They thought I was a girl when I was born and they continued to treat me as such until I was six even though they knew I was a boy a moment after I was born.” 

Dorian’s eyes glinted with a slight fondness. “Athera. I like it. It suits you. Call me ‘Dorian’.” 

“Dorian,” Athera said, feeling the name roll of his tongue easily. He realized that he missed that name.

“i was apparently named after some sort of hero,” Dorian said, waving his hand dismissively. “Knowing that, I take pride in my name.” 

_Right._ “So I’ve heard,” Athera said, fidgeting slightly. 

Dorian leaned in a bit closer to Athera. “Do you know who? I seem to have forgotten.”

“I’ve no idea.” A lie.

Dorian leaned back with an unimpressed look. “What kind of history professor are you? Truly.” 

“A beautifully crafted one,” Athera quipped. 

“Amusing,” Dorian deadpanned. 

They sat in silence for awhile, the only conversation going on was the simultaneous flipping of the pages of their book. Athera relished the moment, looking up ever so slightly to see Dorian occasionally smiling or glaring at one of the pages. It was weird to say but the way he flipped pages was beautiful, his long fingers handled and plucked through it so gracefully and it almost seemed like he was moving in such perfect slow motion. His posture was phenomenal, back straight with his shoulders pressed back and it was evidently the stark contrast of his own slumped and hunched position.

Dorian’s eyes roamed the pages so quickly that Athera was almost sure he wasn’t even reading it, merely just marvelling how beautifully encoded the words were. The elf smiled slightly, more to himself than to anyone, here was a man in front of him so beautifully crafted that he cannot even seem to read his own book. He felt a tug on his chest and a flutter in his stomach. What was this? 

Dorian looked up, Athera blushed a bit but refused to look away. “Something wrong?” 

“Just entranced by a fleeting thought,” Athera replied, hoping he sounded calm. 

“You have quite the way with words,” Dorian said. “What are you reading? It seems it hasn’t caught your attention.” 

“Some book Maxwell told me about,” Athera shrugged. “Says it’s sad but enriching. And you?” 

“Ernest Hemingway,” Dorian replied. “It’s not that he’s particularly mind boggling, it’s just that you have to look into the deeper meaning of things until you hit the truth and even then the truth might not even be the truth.”

“I’ve read some of his works,” Athera said. “Well…I am much too confused but I believe you’ve a mind to understand him better than I can.” 

Dorian smirked. “Stroking my ego will do you no good, Athera.” 

“And would you rather I reply in some other fashion?” Athera smirked back. 

Dorian laughed at that. “You are truly amusing.” 

“So I have been told.” 

“This is new to me, you know.”

“What?” 

“An elf and a Tevinter mage getting along without problems.”

Athera shrugged. “I like to think that I am more liberated than most. Besides, friendships are not unheard of between…our kind?” 

“Our kind,” Dorian confirmed. “Yes, but it is rather new to me. My family still holds a rather heavy indifference for elves. They act civil but would rather not be seen among them.” 

Athera knows it is rather common for discrimination to be around, a result of years and years of slavery would do that but he also knew that discrimination has also been dwindling down. They were now in modern times and he truly loved how people could openly parade their beliefs out in the street whereas before you would probably get killed or imprisoned. He would often times come to those parades and rallies, enjoying people that dressed flamboyantly and proudly. 

He remembers that one time where he accompanied Cole in a same-sex relationship kind of parade, he forgot what it was called, and wow did the blond implode with happiness, he’s never seen Cole so vibrant and confident before. The boy seemed to levitate as he talked to everyone, everyone seeming to accept him in the blink of an eye. 

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said in a rush. “I spoke out of turn, it is not my—“ 

Athera waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nice that you’re sharing, Dorian. You have no need to worry. I’m curious about your magic.” 

“Is that right?” Dorian grinned. “What of it?”

“Who trained you?” 

“Ah, magister named Alexis along with Felici—Felix. She’s a really well known magister around Tevinter, my dad was ecstatic when he found out.” 

Athera almost laughed at that. “Oh?” 

“I specialize in Necromancy, but as of the moment I am trying to learn some basic healing.” Really? Alexis and Felix? Could the universe (or me, the writer) be more creative? “Doubt I’ll ever need healing spells, but better safe than sorry. We’re also trying to make a breakthrough with an experiment we’re conducting. If all goes well I’m going to leave my mark on this world and then perhaps get some sleep.”

“And you are an Altus?” Dorian hummed a ‘yes’. “Are you planning on taking your seat in the magisterium?” 

“Perhaps,” Dorian said. “I do not wish for my father to die so soon. He _is_ a respectable man.” 

“Do you still live with them?” Athera felt something burn his chest at the thought of Dorian leaving to take his father’s place in the magisterium. It seems that he can’t quite shake the feeling of being left behind despite the fact that they’ve just started being friends. 

“Maker, no. I love and adore my parents but I am fully capable of living on my own,” Dorian said, nose scrunching up. “And besides, they’re in Tevinter. I come back during holidays since Mother cooks excellent meals.” 

“What made you come here then?” Athera asked. “Far away from home.” 

Dorian shrugged. “I don’t know, it felt like something was pulling me here. I can’t explain.”

“Do try.” The elf felt his mouth dry up. He is half hoping and also half not that Dorian will say that word he is thinking and it may be a long shot but he’s screaming it in his head, hoping that it is loud enough for the other man to hear.

The mage pursed his lips to the side. “Destiny? It just felt right to be here.” 

There it is…the word.

“You—” the ringing of the bell cut him off. 

Dorian sighed and shut his book. “I do apologize, but that’s my cue to leave your comforting presence. I’ll see you later, Athera.” 

“See you, Dorian.” Then he jumped when Dorian whipped to look back at him again. “Uh, yes?” 

“Would you care to have lunch with me later?” Dorian asked cooly. 

Athera frowned. “I already have plans with Maxwell.” Dorian did that thing wherein people composed themselves after a rejection, regretful and panicked. “Tomorrow?” 

Dorian relaxed, smiling. “Tomorrow.” 

 

Athera kept reading his book even after Dorian left (how long had he been rereading the same sentence?). Lunch? What does that even mean? What does Dorian mean by _lunch_? He blushed profusely at the image of them feeding each other. They’re _friends_ , he forcefully reminds himself. There is nothing going on between them. The hopeless romantic in him has been awakened and if it were a separate entity, he would have hid the thing in the fade. 

He stops himself. 

What was he doing? He told himself to do whatever it takes to protect _this_ Dorian but now he’s imagining them in a romantic relationship. He shook his head, expelling the fanciful thoughts that he managed to conjure. Athera would rather not hurt another man with something he himself cannot even control and, besides, even if he fell in love it would not be pure, he’d just be in love with an idea of the past. 

Could he even do it? Love Dorian Pavus II with all of his heart and never compare him to his Dorian? He is tainted with such an impure intention that it almost hurts to see Dorian’s eye sparkle whenever they saw each other. He wondered if the dips and trenches of Dorian’s body fit with his perfectly, puzzle pieces of an ancient riddle called destiny. Would it really be impossible to fall in love with someone who isn’t Dorian? Maybe.

As the sunlight hits his hand, an image of Dorian glowing radiantly pops in his brain and triggered the fast paced beating of his heart.

Well, shit. 

 

 

_“Athera.” A voice stops him from casting another spell. He lets his arms fall to his sides before he turned around to face the source._

_“Dorian,” Athera said, wiping the sweat off his brow. He had been practicing his lightning spells since lightning was the hardest to control what with it being so chaotically fluid. “Do you need something?”_

_Dorian smirked, crossing his arms with a slight wince. “I so very rarely need anything from you.”_

_“Oh?” A raised brow._

_“Would you care to eat with me?” Dorian asked, smiling._

_“Sweet of you to wait for me,” Athera grinned. They walked side by side towards that camp site in silence, save for the part where Dorian groaned in disgust as he shivered (“Ugh” “You okay?” “S’cold”)._

_Everyone in the camps seems to have left the fire, opting to either scout, bundle up in their own tents or tend to their wounds. Athera sighs as he sits down in front of the flame, feeling his skin tingle with warmth and while he loved the cold climate he rather loved being warm and toasty as well. Dorian sat beside him, handing him a bowl of something he liked to call “whatever stew”. They always ate similar looking things, only ever changing the ingredients based on the availability and so it was then deemed as the “whatever stew”._

_Dorian and Athera._

_It was something unofficial and very young but it was something everyone has come to understand. Sera had already used up all of her jokes to the point wherein she just reuses some of it, then frustratedly quiets down as she goes ignored. Bull was rather indifferent about it although Athera does not seem to know why. Cassandra—well there’s that. Solas was, of course, against it. Varric has been writing—a lot. The others don’t seem to react any differently, just the occasional knowing looks._

_“You were training,” Dorian says, breaking the silence. “Why?”_

_“Lightning is hard to control,” Athera sighed. His eyes goes to Dorian’s arm which was wrapped in a clean bandage. “As you may know.”_

_Dorian tries to hide his arm, then frowned. “It was my fault. I should not have tried to stop you mid-cast and you know it.”_

_“I should have been faster to react,” Athera said, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been good at being a mage.”_

_Dorian tsk-ed. “Nonesense. You are an excellent mage. I do have eyes.”_

_“You do,” the elf said, meeting his gaze. “A rather fetching pair.”_

_“Quite,” Dorian said with a proud look. He deflated a bit, putting down his bowl to hold Athera’s hand. “let’s just forget about this, we all make mistakes. ”_

_“I am aware,” Athera pouted. “I just hope I don’t accidentally hurt my lover again.”_

_Dorian stared and Athera didn’t know if the red creeping up on his face was a blush or from the cold. “Lover?”_

_Athera chuckled, leaning in to kiss Dorian’s nose. “Lover.”_

_“A bit too cliche,” Dorian said, leaning back. “Don’t you think?”_

_“Clich—“ Athera cut himself off with a laugh. “You’re so coy. Alright then.”_

_“What do you mean alright?” Dorian refused to acknowledge the word ‘coy’ being used as something to describe him._

_“Alright,” Athera said. “Alright, ma’nehn.”_

__

* * *

It was raining.

Athera held out his hand, savoring the feeling of raindrops hitting his palm; It made him feel as if he was real. He would usually take a cab home, but today he opted for walking. He opened his umbrella and descended from the stairs in a manner that almost can be graceful, well as graceful as you can be when trying to avoid slipping on the stairs. Athera stopped short, looking down at his shoes—the things that disconnects him more from the earth. 

“Goodbye for now.” 

He leans down and unties his shoes, toeing it off and carrying it with his left hand. Athera wiggled his toes, smiling at the faint connection he felt with nature. He continued to walk, various thoughts swirling around his head and Athera would like to nitpick each and every one but the cool weather muddled his thoughts all into one ball of mush—just like the whatever stew. The clouds swirled above him and he maybe saw an elf ear and well at least he knew the clouds were willing to listen to him. 

Athera silently counted the red cars that passed by him, a bit of a game he made for himself whenever he was out alone. It was sad, but mildly entertaining all at the same time. Cole would often count the yellow cars which were not much so whenever they would compete on it, Athera would always win and Cole would be happy that he won. Athera seemed to stop to look down on a puddle, nose scrunching at his own close to indistinguishable reflection. He doesn’t even have wrinkles and, in another world, he’d be happy about it but now he practically begged for age.

He continued walking. 

There are not much thoughts you can have during a walk, he’s mostly thinking about his next lesson plan and how the hell he will apologize to Maxwell for dog-earing his book. How could he have known that dog earing isn’t something universally accepted?

__

_“Amatus, don’t you fucking dare wrinkle my book. I will personally hex you.”_

__

Okay maybe he did know but _still_ it was just some book about the meaning of flowers. Maxwell loved flowers to death. Nevermind. He’ll buy him purple hyacinth or something.

 

**Athera:** Purple Hyacinth means sorry right?

**Eva:** I’m a botanist 

**Athera:** Do you have a point?

**Eva:** My dear, Athera. I always have a point. I am a botanist and I study the components of plants, its wonderful qualities! The chemical components of it all and—

**Athera:** Again, your point?

**Eva:** Meanings of plants isn’t exactly taught in botany, you know that right? 

**Athera:** Oh okay.

A minute passed.

**Eva:** Fucking _yes_ Athera. Purple hyacinth means ‘sorry’. I hate you. 

**Athera:** Thank you, my little pointy eared friend.

 

When Athera arrives Cole is standing in the middle of the garden, face looking skyward as the rain softly bounced and rolled on his skin. Athera, feeling absolutely weird while holding an umbrella, stood beside him and waited for him to say something. He considers dropping his umbrella on the ground so that he could join him, but he would rather not get sick. 

Under the rain, Cole seemed to look younger and less troubled—not that he ever was. He looked like someone of the century and not as if they have battle high dragons and Corypheus together. Athera treated Cole almost as if he was his younger brother, the innocence of the blond just speaking him in ways that would tug his familial heart strings that he long thought were gone.

“Rain is wonderful,” Cole said, still relishing the feel of the rain. “It washes the old rhymes.” 

Athera smiled gently, feeling his heart soften as he watched the boy in front of him. “So I’ve heard.” 

Cole smiled slightly. “I saw it in a book.” 

_He’s too damn innocent_. “Well, I’m going inside. Have fun with this.” 

“Inquisitor,” Cole said, making Athera stand taller. “The government is in need of your presence tomorrow.” 

“What business do we have with them?” Athera asked, unsure. “It’s been so long since I’ve been last summoned.” 

Truly, it was. The last time he was asked to work for the government was practically fifty years ago when there have been numerous rebellions going against the Archon of the Tevinter Imperium, he was quick to react then but after that everything seemed so at peace. It seemed like they were not in favor of the Archon’s religion, but it was such a personal matter that Athera did not quite understand why it would cause such an uproar. The Archon was rumored to believe in the Elvhen Gods which is to indicate that he was partly elf and partly human. Discrimination is such a petty thing.

Athera is commonly used by the government because he held no alliances, you could say he was a representative of the world itself. He was called to service because he was somewhat a ‘common ground’ because he belonged to a world of the past, avoiding the discriminating slurs that were similar to “What would a Vint know?” “An Orlesian? Don’t make me laugh.”. Athera was summoned by the Tevinter Imperium, Kirkwall’s Government, The Lucerni etc. but he made sure that he was somewhat a ‘freelancer’. He can stop arguments or uprises without any country going against the other because he is Athera Lavellan, the Inquisitor and not because a government gave him a place in this world.

He worked for the government, but not really. It’s all rather complicated. He chose to just live life as it is and not get killed or go broke, whichever came first.

Cole shrugged. “They would not say.” 

“All this confidentiality is rather tiresome,” Athera said, blowing his bangs up. 

“The walls have ears,” Cole said mysteriously. 

Athera shivered. “Right. I take it the school has been informed?” A hum of agreement. “And how long do you think this thing will last?” 

“ _Cannot track them. Twists and turns. Riddles knotted too tightly. What’s their next move? Lives will be lost_.” Athera felt his eyebrows knit together as Cole spoke. “It’s complicated.” 

“I was hoping it wouldn’t be,” Athera sighed. “Join me?” 

Cole looked at him with slight shock. “Of course, Inquisitor. It is a given, my place is with you.” 

Athera felt as if he was struck down by those words just then, as if a bucket full of ice had just been flung onto him without warning. Cole never fails to surprise him even now after all these years. Athera smiled, nodded, then proceeded to go inside the house. 

They have lived in this house for more than fifty years, constantly renewing and fixing as it aged gracefully with them. It was not, by any means, as fancy as those of the typical Tevene or Orlesian houses but it was big enough for four people. There was a time wherein Athera did not see Cole for a day even though they were both inside the house or perhaps it was Athera’s body protesting to move from the bed, he wouldn’t know. The house was lined along neatly in a row with other houses, but its pale yellow exterior (“What do you want the color to be, Cole?” “Yellow because it’s happy”) stood out from the red bricked masses. 

Inside, there were four bedrooms (two have balconies that overlooked a park), a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, two bathrooms, and a door leading to a backyard. When he first got a house, he was confused as to why people needed so many rooms but he remembered Skyhold and well—he didn’t have any arguments left in him. The first thing he did was plant a tree—a Wisteria tree—for his Dorian. It was a symbol of love or so that’s what people told him. At times, the tree would look more silvery grey than purple and it made him remember Dorian’s beautiful eyes and all the laughter contained within it. 

When he was particularly lonely or he felt like he missed Dorian with every single fiber of his being, he sat under the tree with Dorian’s journal, an ancient magic history book, a sketchpad or one of Varric’s books. There are times that Cole would sit with him, choosing to either sit in silence or play the pan flute; when Cole played the pan flute, he’d shut his book and close his eyes, allowing the notes to whisk him away to any other world but there under the tree.

Athera sat on the edge of his bed as he stared at his hand. It rarely glowed now, choosing only to light up after a nightmare or when he uses rift magic. He still wore gloves, opting for those that are lightweight but thick enough to conceal its glow. His old staff stood tall beside his dresser, but the current one he’s using is in the form of a bracelet that’s worn on his left wrist. The moment he unclasps it is the moment it elongates into a full Heart of Pride, filling his ears with laughter and a sense of triumph. 

He looked at the balcony, gloomy and crying before he decide to toe of his shoes and lie down. He had not eaten supper yet but was too lazy to do so, his mind still thinking over the possible mission they were to be given tomorrow. 

Athera closed his eyes and let himself drift off to oblivion.

 

 

The morning rather screamed at him with heat and radiance, a stark contrast to the weather he slept through the night before. When he was finished with his morning routine—shower, brush, pack, stare in dismay at his own reflection—he found Cole sitting on the kitchen island with a troubled look. “Something the matter, Cole?

“I tried to make the _whatever_ stew,” Cole said. “I don’t think I did well.”

Athera looked at it curiously and indeed it was a whatever stew. “Why?” 

“Well I ran out of herbs and—”

He shook his head. “I mean why did you make this whatever stew?” 

“You were thinking about it,” Cole replied, then smiled a bit. “And it made you all happy.” 

Athera did not reply, he simply sat down beside Cole and ate his stew. It didn’t taste like the whatever stew, it tasted like all the flavours in the known world was liquified and there to massage his tongue into the abyss of ecstasy. It tasted _good_ and Cole somehow got the hint when Athera’s ears perked up. The elf slumped over the bowl, scarfing it down like a hungry wolf. He almost choked on some of the chopped vegetables, but did he care? No.

“That was so good,” Athera moaned, staring at his empty bowl. He was deciding on whether or not he should have a second serving. “It’s even better than the blighted whatever stew.” 

Cole laughed. “I’m delighted.” 

“Are you ready for today?” Athera asked. He decided against having a second serving. 

The blond nodded. “I’m wearing my best hat.” It was the hat that Athera gave him. 

 

The car ride was rather relaxing, but then again travel was always relaxing for Athera even if it involved battling a high dragon in the end. The whir of the outside as it passed his field of vision made him have a sense of progress, as if he was both physically and metaphorically moving forward in his life. The only thing that bothered him was the heavily tinted windows, it made the world look darker than it should be. He knew the sun was just out there waiting to blind him with its rather prominent brightness. The radio in the background hummed a gentle tune, something that reminded him of the countryside. 

He picked out shapes in the clouds, seemingly remembering how he’d always almost fall off of his horse whenever he did that. He still gets that feeling, but the leather on the seat begs to differ. 

 

 

__

_“Amatus.” Athera knew that strong tone. It was Dorian’s ‘warning’ tone and he’s only used it once (okay maybe a shit ton) and it was when Athera almost tripped on the root of a tree. The elf ripped his gaze away from the clouds to look at Dorian who was looking forward. The mage sensed his stare and looked at him, rolling his eyes when the elf flashed him a toothy grin._

_“The clouds are beautiful today,” Athera said, looking up once more. “I see a halla.”_

_“A ha—” A frustrated sigh. “Do be careful, my Inquisitor.”_

_Athera pouted. “Vin, mamae.”_

_Dorian stared then rolled his eyes so hard that he could practically see his brain. “Did you just ‘yes, mom’ me?”_

_“Too obvious?” Athera laughed, softening Dorian’s gaze._

_The clouds were indeed beautiful, almost as if there wasn’t any danger awaiting them later on. They didn’t seem to be real, some were spiralling upwards and some looked like the waves in the sea. Athera smiled as he managed to spot a mabari amongst them, he knew Cullen would have loved it. One particular cloud managed to catch Athera’s attention, it was quicker than the others in forming a shape. It looked familiar._

_It looked like a peacock._

_He yelped when felt himself slip off then a wince when he felt a hand grip his upper arm as if the person was white knuckling him. “ **Amatus**.” _

_Athera righted himself then gave Dorian, who seemed to be biting his tongue, a sheepish smile. “Ir abelas, ma’nehn.”_

_For the rest of the journey, Dorian ignored him but stayed a hair strand’s distance away._

__

 

At the entrance, they were greeted by a man dressed in a black suit. The man gave them a calculated smile partnered with practiced words, Athera knew he’d been working here for quite some time to have that sort of aura and composure. His name is Joseph and Cole thought he looked more like a ‘John’ to which Athera smiled at. Joseph ignored this, murmuring something in his walkie talkie before bowing and leading them further inside.

If there’s one thing Athera hated about having political meetings it is the actual location they had to go to. Grey. Grey _everywhere_. Everything seemed so dead, life force and color vacuumed out of them until they are nothing but a shell that symbolized oblivion and punishment. Cole seemed to deflate beside Athera, frowning at how the hallways were a never ending pathway that led to nowhere. 

“ _Screams of innocence. It was for my kids. She’s sick. Apologies. Let me go. Ple—_ ”

“Fenedhis, Cole. You’re scaring me,” Athera said, eyes scanning the room. Cole apologized and gave an awkward pat on the elf’s tense shoulder. “This place is worse than the last one, at least the last one had a red carpet.” 

“The carpet held screams of the animals.” 

“ _Creators._ ” 

They let the clicking of their shoes consume them and it made Athera slightly more confident, weirdly enough. Joseph seemed to twitch whenever his heels clicked and maybe _now_ they would consider letting him walk barefoot. He almost crashes into Joseph’s back due to his abrupt stop but quickly recovers and composes himself. Joseph opened the door and stood aside to allow them to enter, bowing slightly out of respect. Athera really hated people bowing to him even until now. 

“Leon,” Athera said, bowing his head slightly. Ironic.

Leon Magnus was the head of the country’s Department of Security which works for the country’s citizen’s protection. Athera has known Leon Magnus since he was first elected for the position, coming to work with him occasionally if he is called for. Leon used to have a childlike round face that seemed to radiate youth and vitality but now he seemed to look harsher, face gaunt and eyes heavy with purpose and stress. He looked to be weighed down by endless things and he wonders if this is truly what life is about, submitting yourself until you rot. 

“Athera Lavellan,” Leon said, smiling. “It’s been so long.” 

Athera sits down in front of him, Cole mirroring his actions. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Terror attacks seemingly coming from an unknown leader,” Leon said, straightforward. 

“And what does this have to do with me?” Athera asked. “I am a dead man.” 

Leon snorted. “You would think so but it is not the case.” An envelope is slides down towards Athera’s direction, it is labelled ‘Confidential’ and honestly if it was so _confidential_ they shouldn’t let anyone know it is confidential with that bigger than life red stamp. 

Athera opens the envelope gently, squinting as he reads. “Enemies of the Lucerni?” Leon nodded. “But they have been disbanded once everything was stable in the Tevinter Imperium” _Once Dorian died_. 

“It seems they have motives to unravel what has been done.”

“I don’t understand. It has been a long time since the Lucerni, this is like shovelling back the dead to question them for their past misdeeds. This is impossible—“

“And yet there it is,” Leon grunted. “They have already started with small attacks such as bombs, mass shootings—“

“ _Small_?” Athera said, exasperated. “You call that small?”

“We are lucky that there is no mass hysteria,” Leon said. “And the media is being kept at bay as of the moment. We are managing it.” 

“What do I have to do with all of this?” Athera asked. “I was not part of the Lucerni.” 

“Yes but you know of its origin and we strongly believe that it is heavily related to you as you are the only thing here that stands for the Lucerni, I am not aware of the Archon’s stance on this matter but I am sure he is with you.” 

“What is it you want me to do? I cannot do anything without risking imbalance between Kirkwall and the Imperium or my own privacy.” 

“We need you to be under our protection as well as have you on the field when an attack occurs.” 

“And when might that be?” 

“Today.”

“How is it not swarmed by media? It is hard to keep something such as this hidden.”

“We threaten them with a corporal shut down,” Leon shrugged. “It’s not that hard.” 

Athera had to force himself to not roll his eyes. “Clever.” 

“So are you willing to accept?” 

“Do I have a choice?” 

Leon pretended to think. “No.”

Athera looked to Cole for any sort of disapproval, but Cole was fiddling with a loose string on his hat. He’ll take that as an approval. “Okay. I still don’t understand why I’m needed.”

“You are the Inquisitor,” Leon said, a hint of respect. “We are all here to serve you.” 

“To serve a dead man?” Athera chuckled. “Unheard of.” 

“Until now. Let’s depart.” 

 

 

 

 

 

“In _Antiva_?” Athera said, wiping sweat off of his forehead. 

“In Antiva,” Leon huffed. “And do make sure to keep your hood up.” 

It was far more different than Kirkwall, the stark contrast of accents and mode of transportation alone. They still had carriages here, but they were pulled by a man or a woman; it garnered the interest of tourists but it has always disgusted Athera. It was somewhat a violation of human rights. The only thing he liked here was the oceanic view, the smell of the sea breeze, and the voices of their bards. Their voices sounded as smooth honey creeping out of the jar. 

_Josephine_.

In one of the late nights he spent with Josephine, clearly for work rather than entertainment or a moment, there was a round of expensive wine and random chatters— _I used to be a bard you know_. It spiked his interest. Josephine? Uptight Josephine used to be a bard? 

Really now. 

_Yes_. She was more entertained than offended with his reaction. Josephine light heartedly, yet her eyes seemed rather constricted, explained how she used to sing songs for the most esteemed families (as if she wasn’t in an esteemed family) her golden tinted costume glistening in the light and then…she killed a man. It was a mistake, of course, Josephine could never harm someone out of impulse. _She was Josephine_. He remembered asking her to sing for him but she blushed and laughed saying that maybe if she had more expensive wine in her; Athera knew that if he gave her any more wine then she’d more likely be hunched over a pail rather than sing.

He never really did get to hear her sing. 

“Inquisitor.”

Athera snorted. “You tell me to keep my hood up and yet you refer to me as that.”

“Your highness,” Leon said, smirking. “You seem to be elsewhere.” 

“Josephine,” Athera shrugged and Leon nodded as if he understood. “Where are we headed?” 

“An orphanage.” 

_“Did you know? I’m working on a house for poor children with no homes.”_

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. It’s—”

_“What do you think of the name—”_

“—Hestia.” 

_“—Hestia?’”_

Athera tried not to wince. “Oh.” 

“A man of many words has summarized such a grievance with ‘oh’.” Leon was trying to bring humor into the situation and Athera tried to laugh but he wouldn’t—couldn’t react. “They attacked two nights ago and we’ve transferred the survivors to a sister orphanage in the Tevinter Imperium. They were more than willing to house them.” 

Athera swallowed, stopping just a little bit farther behind Leon as he tried to soak up the destruction in front of him. When had he last seen so much blood? Screams of children rung in his ears and he flinched. The mere thought of abandoned children gaining another grievance. What was this all for? He remembered fighting for the good of the nation all those years ago and he thought he was fighting for freedom that was to be gifted to their descendants but here was another act of mindless bloodshed. 

“What was it all for?” Athera muttered to himself. 

_“It’s a home to keep them safe and perhaps, in the future, they will have a name for such a thing”_

He bravely stepped inside the building, blocking out all thoughts of Josephine but he just could not bear to even think about it. How disappointed would she be if she were to be alive right now? How many tears would she have shed if she stood in his place to soak up this massacre. The wooden floorboards loudly creaked beneath him, echoing through out the building. It struck him that whoever had caused this must have been trusted because he knew how the security in the house worked. 

Cole stood beside him. “ _What was it all for? Revenge. Regret. Too many deaths. For what? The future. Bright. Blinding. But now so bleak—why shed blood? I fought for this. This is my fault._ ”

“You make thoughts sound so poetic,” Athera hummed, testing the creak of floorboards. It moaned with every motion that he made. “Truly, I almost forgot you were there.” 

“You did not want conversation with the past,” Cole said, distant. 

Athera nodded. “Sorry.” 

“You are hurt,” Cole said. 

“Yes.” And he doesn’t know what made him admit it. “Let’s do a search.” 

“Yes, Inquisitor.” 

They searched in silence, making sure to remember to wear gloves this time around because the last time they didn’t—well the authorities were red in the face with hot rage. Honestly, they were so hooked up on the fingerprints bullshit that they sometimes fail to see the greater pictures but who was he to say anything against modern technology? He was a man of the past. A few hours and they came up blank all except for a broken off part of a blade that strangely looked somewhat familiar to Athera. He’d have to ponder over it for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Tell me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!

__

_“You’re afraid of me,” Dorian said, standing a good few feet away from Athera who was curled up on the ledge of his window._

_It was just after one of their quests and normally Dorian and Athera would bond together like they usually did but the elf all but avoided him. He would not catch his gaze and he did not dare visit the mage in his little alcove. Dorian, of course, felt empty and like he was pushed in a rut he could not escape. What they have—whatever they have—was very young and unknown to the others. Dorian always wondered when Athera would listen to the warnings about the ‘evil Tevinter mage’ and he started to believe that the elf would never really concede but now it seems like sense was knocked into him._

_Athera looked at him, then snapped his gaze away. “I’m not afraid just…” he struggles “…just indifferent.”_

_“I don’t know what to say,” the mage responded, lips pursed. “I apologize.”_

_“There is nothing for you to apologize for,” Athera sighed, untangling himself so he could stand. He could not look at the mage he thought he fancied. How foolish of him, it had been only a few weeks. “It’s me. It’s my problem.”_

_Dorian fidgeted. He has never encountered this side of the Inquisitor and it frustrates him that he, for once, does not know how to respond. “I didn’t wish for you to see that side of me. It was barbaric.” He stared at his hands. “I was not even aware that I had that side of me.”_

_“What use would the blade on your staff be if you didn’t use it,” Athera said. “Even if it was rather violent.”_

_“My body responded the way it did because I needed to protect you,” Dorian said. “It is no different to how our friends fought, Inquisitor.”_

_Athera glared at the floor; he hated that title and all the chaotic things it brought him and for Dorian to use it on him—revolting.“Dorian…please.”_

_“I needed to protect you, Athera,” Dorian said, voice soft. “I was low on mana.”_

_Athera had had his back open, weight half supported by his own staff because of his possibly broken rib. He tried to breathe out the pain but it wasn’t working, vision blurry and insignificant. Dorian could practically see his future vanishing as a Zealot closed in on the elf who has promised him a beautiful after while they were starry eyed and soaking in one another. He needed to do something and his last bit of strength and a surge of adrenaline sent him flying. It was a blur after that and the next thing he knew was that he towered over the Zealot, face wet from blood. He looked at Athera who stared at him with glass eyes and body frozen. There were no words, just Athera scurrying away with a “I have to report to Cassandra” thrown at him._

_“Thank you for protecting me,” Athera sighed. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I have never really seen you act in that manner and I thought…and it reminded me of…” **slavers** _

_“It is alright if you resent me,” the mage said. It was nothing new, to be resented was some of the things he was always accustomed to._

_“Dorian,” Athera said, eyes holding Dorian’s gaze. The mage lost all his words. “Let it be known that I resent everything in this world except you.”_

_“But you—”_

_“I know and I…I’ll handle it,” Athera said firmly. “You just have to be patient with me. I’m still new to this and you are nothing like any of my past affairs—not that I consider you as momentary thing I—” he struggled, releasing a whine. “You know what I mean, right?”_

_Dorian gave him a small smile. “I do.”_

_They will be okay._

__

* * *

The morning after they came back from Antiva was absolutely tiresome. It was more than twelve hours of travelling and he really missed his bed but he cannot miss another day of school. Cole was lucky enough to have the next day as his break so he disappeared once he was done checking up on Athera for any mood changes or physical injuries. It was routine for them to have Cole check on him before they parted for individual activities right after a mission.

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers and allowed his gloves to mildly caress the skin on his hands. His hand gave off a faint glow while he was investigating in Antiva but he did not mind it because it is what usually happened whenever he came close to remnants of his past. It made him wonder why it didn’t glow when he was near Cole but after living a millennia without knowing anything, he just ignored it. He was thankful that the gloves he wore blocked off the glow really well so he didn’t have to worry whenever he was at school.

The first thing that happened once he stepped inside the faculty room was Maxwell running towards him and encasing him in the tightest hug Athera has ever received in his life. “You’re back!”

Athera pulled away as gently as he could. He couldn’t say he felt very comfortable with that hug. “I’ve been gone for a day.” 

“Still,” the man pouted. “Lunch was quite boring.” 

“Well lun—”

Lunch. 

Why did it seem to feel like something was out of place?

Oh. 

Dorian. 

Lunch,

_Lunch with Dorian._

He absolutely forgot about it and he failed to message Dorian about cancelling—well, to be fair, he did not have Dorian’s number or anything. He cleared his throat, forcing the thought to go to the back of his mind; he will talk to the mage later. His eyes went to Dorian’s cubicle, releasing a sigh of relief once he found it empty. “Well lunch is just you stuffing your face so there’s nothing to talk about anyway.” 

Maxwell pouted. “Untrue.” 

“Right,” Athera said. “Anyway, I was called for.” 

“I see,” Maxwell replied, walking beside him as they went towards their assigned places. Maxwell and Eva were the only ones who knew of his immortality as well as his role in the government and it took Athera about two years and a half to tell them completely, mostly it was because he couldn’t quite hide it from them since he kept losing count of his ‘age’ and whatnot. “Are you alright?”

“Coping.” A sigh. “Just…everything comes back in waves and that thing was a tsunami.”

Maxwell stared then gave him a smile. “You’ll be pleased to know that you have a lot of things to do for today.” 

The elf groaned. “Really?” 

“Papers, papers, papers…” Maxwell gave him a pile of papers. “…and more papers.” 

“ _Creators_.”

Maxwell patted the stack of papers. “The easiest way to forget a problem is to drown yourself in your work.”

“I do not get paid enough,” Athera groaned, plopping down on his swivelling chair. “I was only gone for a day!” 

“And now you are rewarded,” the other man quipped. “Eva’s sick so you’ll not get another hug until tomorrow.” 

“Such good news amongst this…” he struggled to find something witty to say. 

“Punishment from hell?” 

“Yep.” 

“By the way, Dorian was looking for you.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah, he says that you two had an arrangement of sorts. I’ve no idea.” 

Athera looked over to Dorian’s empty cubicle once again. “I’ll talk to him later.”

“Never knew you talked with him,” Maxwell pressed. “Is there…something?” 

“Leave it.” 

A sigh. “Fine.” 

The good thing about Maxwell is that he was not offended whenever Athera told him off about overstepping and such. It was always frustrating whenever Athera refused to share any more details and the other party would take it personally, often going to self-defense mode as if Athera was going against them. There might have been one time wherein he tried to ‘date’ a girl (was that what the young people called it?) but it ended in two weeks with the girl upset over him not being able to show her his journals and whatnot. His journals were far too private for him to share with anyone, even Cole. 

He had an abundant time to ponder over the small broken part of a blade during the trip home. He wore his gloves, opting to be on the safe side since it seemed sharp and Athera wasn’t the most careful elf out there. It bothered him that he knew it was familiar but he could not, for the life of him, understand why it was so. He even tried to scan some of the books he had at home, matching it up here and there but there was nothing that came up. Things should not even seem familiar to him, everything was new…new? So did that mean that the blade was something of years ago? When he held it, he felt no modernization at all. Could it be—

His ears perked up at the sound of the door opening, a blush falling upon his cheeks once he realized that the person who entered was Dorian. He looked beautiful today, as beautiful as the day he was first introduced to them by the principal. Dorian seemed to have felt his stare because his eyes caught his. _Help_. Athera flashed him a sheepish smile while Dorian gave him a small smirk and a nod. _Fuck that smirk of his_. So…he wasn’t mad at him for ditching him during lunch? He expected some sort of lightning crackles along with red sparks _you made me wait for you, you barefoot thing_ but…nothing? Just a smirk? Somehow, it felt wrong. 

It felt wrong and so that is why Athera stood up and went towards Dorian’s cubicle. “Uh…hey.” 

Dorian looked up smirking then resting his chin on his palm. “Hey.” 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” the elf said, eyebrows scrunching together. What was he doing? “I didn’t expect there to be something to pop up.” 

“I’m not mad,” Dorian chuckled. “It’s fine, Athera.” 

He releases a sigh of relief at the mention of his name. “Still…let me treat you later?”

Dorian’s eyes sparkled. “Let me just check my schedule.”

Athera rolled his eyes, groaning. “ _Dorian_.” 

“Alright alright,” Dorian laughed, holding his hands up as a sign of defeat. 

“One condition.” 

“Yes?” 

“No Antivan food.” 

 

 

_“You are upset,” Athera sighed, footsteps fading to a stop. He decided to stand just a few feet away from his lover’s tensed back. “I did not mean for us to come to such a conclusion.”_

_Dorian grunted. “Pretty and swirling words will do you no good tonight, Amatus.”_

_When he heard Dorian use his pet name, Athera relaxed a bit. Dorian was not as angry as he feared he would be but the mage still insists on, most likely, glaring at a spot far away from the both of them. What the spot did to offend Dorian? He did not know but he was happy that it was not directed at him otherwise he would probably lose his words._

_“Sorry.”_

_“I wish to sleep at my own quarters tonight I—”_

_“ **Ma’nehn.** ” _

_“—do not wish to snap at you and make this little quarrel worse. We’re alright.”_

_“Your insistence on trying to avoid every fight is rather bothersome,” Athera said, pursed lips. He frowned when he saw Dorian tense further, it was not a good sign. He wills himself to choose his words because he did not feel like sleeping in a cold empty bed with the wind as his mate._

_“I will, with great difficulty, admit that it is petty.”_

_Athera couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “When are you not, vhenan.”_

_“Don’t test me, Lavellan.”_

_“Is this about me not allowing you to accompany me to the Highlands?” Dorian does not reply. “It is.” Of course it was. “It is not because you are incompetent or whatever ridiculous thought you conjured up in that pretty head of yours.”_

_“I’m aware,” the man said through gritted teeth._

_“And I won’t find anyone else prettier.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I won’t dare go near Bull.”_

_“It’s fine.”_

_“It’s fi—” he raked his hair back with his fingers. “What do you want me to say, Dorian? What else? What else is there?”_

_“A year.”_

_“What?” Athera said, too caught off guard to continue on his rant._

_“I have—whatever we have will turn into a year…”_

_“Ma’nehn.”_

_“…and I’m going to celebrate it staring outside this window wondering if you will even come back.”_

_And that’s when it hit him that they **have** been doing this for a year, they have been in love for a year. His heart swells but it is also heavy. How could he have not known? Is it bad that he can see the disappointment with how Dorian’s shoulders sagged slightly? Creator’s sake. He was never good at monitoring the time and he wasn’t aware that Dorian held sentimentality over things such as dates._

_“You know I—”_

_“I do.”_

_“I just didn’t want you to get cold and sick,” Athera said pathetically. It was truly the only reason why he did not add Dorian. Yes, having to be alone in an empty tent whilst freezing is not something ideal but he would rather do it alone than feel Dorian’s body quake beside him. “You hate the cold.”_

_Dorian sighed, finally turning around. The corner of his lip twitched slightly when he saw the elf staring at his feet the way he always he did whenever he ran out of things to say. He neared the elf, fingers gently going through the other’s hair. “I detest it but I do quite like you.”_

_Athera looked up, smiling slightly. “Is that a confession?”_

_“You already know that I love you, you idiot,” Dorian smirked, unaware with how Athera practically had his knees buckle. “So you should also be aware that wherever you go, I will be sure to follow and whatever you ask, I will be sure to give. You are a lucky man after all.”_

_“Such sweet words for a man who claims he has a heart of stone,” Athera said, placing Dorian’s palm on his own cheek. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth. “You do wear me out, Dorian Pavus.”_

_“A job of mine,” Dorian chuckled, thumb lightly tracing a line on Athera’s cheek._

_“Fine,” Athera snorted. “I do detest being alone in my tent.”_

__

 

Athera has never been so neck deep in paperwork before, the last time he has experienced this was when he was with Josephine and _fenedhis_ that was actual hell to do. One, he was writing in a language that his Dorian had loosely taught him. Two, he was left handed so everything he had to do was just twice as hard. He has learned to be ambidextrous—now that there was technology made especially for people who were left handed. He does not understand how paper work piled up like that when he was gone for a mere day. Okay maybe he understood because it was just not school work but it also included political work. _Great._

“How are you, my friend,” a soft accent laced voice said. 

Athera felt his heart seize. He is going to deny that Dorian managed to make him giddy just by saying ‘my (insert title of whatever they are)’ because….just because. “Dying, Dorian.” 

“I could not wait for you any longer…” _Oh._ Athera was ready to accept another re-invitation to lunch but there was only the sound of a plastic bag and the smell of some strong herbs. “I just went on and bought us both some food so that we could stay in.” 

The elf almost cried. “That is so thoughtful of you, my friend.” is what he meant to say, instead, he said. “Why?” 

“I go and cross oceans to buy you some great food and you question my motive? Nice of you, truly.” He was honestly about to apologize but then he saw Dorian smirking at him. “You seem to not have slept well and you are rather busy so I thought I would be nice.”

“Thank—”

“Do be flattered, Lavellan,” the mage said proudly or as proud as he could sound as he set up their meals. “I so rarely act kind.”

Athera gave him a fond smile. “I doubt that.” 

Dorian smiled back, then cleared his throat. “Is this seat taken?” 

“I thought of a joke but I would rather not say it.” Dorian snorted at this. “Go ahead and take it. Maxwell is at lunch with the other mathematic professors.” 

“Oh I have managed to sit beside them during lunch the other week and well I can’t say that they are a party.” Athera laughed at this. “This one man was doing the mole avogadro’s number joke. Athera, that wasn’t even a math joke.” 

“Ah, but you still know it,” Athera smirked. “Therefore, you lose.” 

Dorian was about to say something defensive then sighed, a laugh escaping him. “You win, clever elf.” 

Athera smiled at him triumphantly. He then stared at the food Dorian ordered for the both of them. “This is…” 

“Good,” Dorian finished. “Try it.” 

“Okay so maybe it is,” Athera said, wiping his mouth because the soup somehow splattered all over him. “And—what? What are you smiling at?” 

Dorian chuckled. “Your ears.” 

The elf frowned, cupping them. He knew his ears perked up whenever he was happy or amazed or alert in battle or upset. Basically, they twitch a lot. “What?” 

“No, it’s fine,” the mage laughed reaching out to tug on Athera’s sleeve. He noticed how he avoided making direct contact with the elf, something he deeply appreciated. Athera reluctantly set his hands down on the table. “It is rather cute.” 

_I am older than you by a mere millennium, I am not cute._ “I’m not cute.” He groaned. “Just shut up and eat.”

“So why were you gone yesterday?” Dorian asked. 

“I just felt poorly,” Athera frowned. “I apologize for not telling you.” 

“You have no means to contact me,” Dorian shrugged. “Would you mind if I put my number in your phone?” 

Athera tried really hard to fight down his blush. “I don’t mind if it is you.” 

Dorian gave him a knowing look before he took Athera’s phone and punched in his number. “There. You can contact me any time from now on even if it is to ask me when I last sneezed.” 

“When you last sneezed?” Athera laughed. “That’s pretty silly.” 

“I hope you were treating yourself well when you were feeling unwell.” Dorian was putting spices in his food and Athera liked spices but not to the extent that Dorian does, he was almost sure the mage wanted to burn his own tongue off. 

Oh, wait, he needed to reply. “Cole was fussing over me so it was fine.” 

It was not exactly a lie, Cole checked him thrice for any injuries be it physical or mental before he even let Athera go back to work. Once, when Athera was sick, Cole would be making any food that popped into Athera’s head. He also made sure he was comfortable and that the temperature was just right for him. The blond boy did not even sleep until the elf recovered from his fever. Cole was really the greatest being for the injured and unwell. 

“Cole?” A raised brow. 

A nod. “My house mate.” 

“Oh, you live with someone.” 

“I do. He has helped me out a lot, we have been together since ages ago.” He smiles fondly at the memories that flashed in small snippets in his mind. 

Dorian nodded. “I’ve yet to find company like that.” 

“How was your day yesterday?” Athera asked, mentally kicking himself for accidentally eating both a spice and a minty herb all at the same time. 

“Bit bland,” he replied, frowning. “I did not have anyone to sit with me in the library.” 

“I’m sorry for not taking my duty seriously,” Athera quipped, smiling behind his cup as he drank. “I promise to be dedicated to you.” 

“You amuse me,” Dorian laughed. 

Athera made sure to cover his government related paper work as he shuffled his bowl a little. Dorian did not need to know, he does not have to and he will not allow it. “I’d hope so.” 

“There is this movie Felix and I have been meaning to watch,” Dorian said. “Would you like to come?”

If Athera Lavellan made a weird face then it is not because he was appalled by the idea of going to a _movie_ with Dorian and Felix but it is because…what in Creator’s name was a _movie_? He has been too into himself and his past to even notice some of the other worldly modernizations. He has only recently heard about theme parks where they have these rollercoaster contraptions that fling you like how a dragon would and it was supposed to be ‘fun’. “Huh?” 

“It’s okay if you don’t wish to come it’s—”

“No,” Athera said, abruptly. “No, it’s not that I don’t wish to come it’s just…I have never been to a movie before?” 

“You have no idea what a movie is?” 

The elf blushed, ears unknowingly twitching in embarrassment. “No.” 

“You should come then,” Dorian smirked. “You’ll enjoy it.” 

He was expecting Dorian to laugh at him but that did not come at all. “I’m not sure.” 

Dorian hummed with Athera seeing the way his mind was trying to somewhat salvage the situation. “You can bring Cole if you’d like.” 

Okay, there were a lot of problems with what Dorian had just proposed. One, it would give Cole a ticket to see the inner workings of Athera’s mind while he was with Dorian; he didn’t even know what he felt or thought so why should Cole? Two, he didn’t know how Cole conversed with normal people and he wasn’t embarrassed but he was not prepared to explain either. Three, it’s just a really problematic situation that Athera was not ready to han— “Alright.” 

That is not what he meant, that is not what he wanted to say _at all_. 

“Splendid,” Dorian grinned.

They ate in silence after that short conversation and it left Athera to his own thoughts, all the while trying not to spill hot liquid on himself. He is picturing many different scenarios on how this _movie_ would go and none of them particularly end happy. Well, one of those do but then the end of that scenario would be them falling in love with the other ageing and _oh no_. Yes, he is particularly aware that this may or may not be a disaster but—

“Felix will absolutely adore you.”

“Is that so.” 

“Quite. He is stupidly charming and you are well…not as charming but still charming. You’ll just charm each other. Charm is starting to not be a word anymore.” 

— but it could also be something rather beautiful. What was he doing? Dorian was inviting him out as a friend, to better their friendship and maybe to share a bond with him a little more different than what he and his Dorian had. It is rather different but who is to say that it cannot be something good? He has been assuming so many things on how bad this could go because of a potential romantic relationship but it does not seem like it will go to that path he wanted—well he _didn’t_ want that path. He didn’t. It would be selfish of him to want it. 

And if he needed it?

He didn’t need it. He did not need this Dorian to be something other than a good friend, he did not need this Dorian to be his source of joy. His joy. _Ma’nehn_. They are what they are and what they are is companions. It is all that is left for him and it is all he is willing to take. He only takes what he truly deserves and this was it. He winces when he bites his tongue. 

“ _Fasta vass_.”

Dorian snorted. “Mind that tongue.”

“Oh ha ha,” Athera said, rolling his eyes. “Funny of you.” 

“I try to make things worth while,” the man cockily grinned.

“ _Whatever._.” It was the most modern thing he’s ever said. Well, he thought it was. 

“At any rate, I will have to leave you to that mountain of work you have left since I have to prepare for my next class.” He was beginning to clean up and Athera dumbly stared.

“I look forward to the…movie.” 

Dorian paused. “I look forward to it too. Oh, do bring a jacket.” 

Athera cocked his head to the side. “Why?” 

“They make the cinemas stupidly cold and I detest it but love it at the same time.”

“Don’t tell me the great Dorian Pavus II is afraid of feeling chilly,” he teased. 

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I do not fear the cold, I just…absolutely hate it. It is completely natural for me to hate it given my affinity for fire.” 

“I quite like the cold,” the elf shrugged. “It’s better to just keep adding layers because there’s only a certain amount of clothing you can remove before it is rather…inappropriate.” 

“And you _would_ be the one to enjoy me strip,” Dorian winked then laughed. Athera blushed, then blushed harder when he felt his ears twitch. “I’m sorry for the discomfort, Athera. Anyway, I have bothered you enough. I will let you go back to your oh so exciting duties—” Athera groaned at this “—as I return to mine. I’ll…you’ll contact me?” 

The elf smiled, violently shoving down the fluttering feeling. “I will.” 

 

__

_The mage regrets winning that little quarrel with Athera. He really does._

_Dorian was cold, hungry, and angry. He hated, absolutely despised, the highlands. How anyone could possibly be pretty during these situations, he didn’t know. He did not even know how he himself managed to—well…managed. He also hated the food, if anyone could even call it food. It was bland and the moment it hit his bowl it becomes cold and everything is so cold and why did he even go? Love? **Andraste’s tits** , this was ridiculous. _

_“Ma’nehn,” a soft whisper. He hates how it immediately makes his heart beat faster._

_“Yes, my Inquisitor?” He managed to adjust. If he was called “ma’nehn” then he would say “my Inquisitor” but if it was “Dorian” it would be “Lavellan” or “Inquisitor.”_

_“Just a moment.”_

_He should not trust that little smile his lover wore. “Whatever you wish for, Amatus.”_

_A groan from Cassandra but it was ignored._

_Dorian entered the tent after he watched Athera enter first, all excited yet graceful. “Amatus, I hope you have a great reason to call me here because—what in…”_

_“Surprise,” Athera said softly. There he sat in the middle of the tent with a slightly insecure look on his face. There was a variety of food laid out in front of the elf with a small lit candle in the middle of it. He realized that the tent was warm, a stark contrast to the harsh outside. It was not anything grand but still it made him feel like he has found something he did not know he was looking for. He was easy to please really, a warm tent with food and the man he loved was something he never thought he’d want—love. “I wanted to do something for you.”_

_“I adore you, Athera Lavellan,” Dorian grinned, sitting in front of the elf then carefully leaning in to give his forehead a kiss. “Sometimes I forget but you should know that I do.”_

__

 

 

“I would love to go to a movie,” Cole said, startling Athera out of his own thoughts. “It’s like the magic box, but bigger.” 

Athera sighed. “I guess there is no point in hiding things from you.” 

“I do not understand why you would,” the blond said, swirling his spoon in his drink. “I do not hide anything from you—” His head snaps up a little. “—no, I do not wish for you to feel guilty.” 

“I apologize,” Athera said, standing up then sitting back down. He was overthinking everything and he just wanted to get this over with. “I just do not trust myself.” 

Cole looked at him curiously. “I don’t understand.” 

“Him and I…” he trailed off. “…it’s impossible.” 

“Why?”

“Because I deem it to be.” 

“You used to pray night and day for the stars to align,” Cole said. “And now that it has…you avoid it?” 

“I was only thinking of myself then,” Athera sighed. “Now, I also have to think of his life that I will ruin.” 

“I can’t make the hurt go away,” Cole frowned. “You do it purposely and unforgivingly. I cannot stop you from doing what you like. I’m confused, Athera.” 

“Confused?”

“Why would you hurt yourself?” Cole then shook his head. “You like the hurt.”

“I suppose it’s because I deserve it,” Athera said, breathy. 

Cole looked at him with a look that he could only describe as mixed. He was trying to look for a set emotion but there was none. “You sound like him.” 

“Who?”

“Your Dorian.” 

Athera swallowed a lump in his throat. “What do you mean?” 

“He wanted the pain because he thought he deserved it,” Cole said. “And, like him, you are wrong.” 

“Sadly, I’m almost never wrong.” 

“ _Adornment. Love. Such pretty eyes—Dazzling. Honest. Blinding. They are on me. They caress me. I don’t want to forget. Don’t forget. Wish to give you happiness in another life, Athera—No. Wrong. In every life, Amatus._ ” Cole gave him a solid look, a look he only gives whenever he wanted people to take him seriously. “It’s not selfish to want something he wished for you to have.” 

Athera did not know what to say so he decided to say nothing at all. He simply watched Cole drink his cup of tea whilst he studied some of his documents that were probably filled with information about his patients. If he didn’t see it in front of him, he would think that Cole reading legal documents was a weird thing to imagine. Josephine would probably giggle at the idea, given that she was the one who was actually good at that. 

The elf feels himself overthinking what Cole said. He wanted to just believe that the blond only said those things to make him feel better about some of his choices but there was one problem—Cole _never_ lies. His Dorian wanted him to fall in love with someone else? His Dorian was willing to accept that he would have to give Athera away to some other man in the future? It was noble but how soul crushing could that be to think of, to think of how your supposed soul mate is destined to you but not only you. Athera felt his chest throb. If he was confused then, he was more confused now. He wanted to be happy and his Dorian also wanted this but he felt like it wasn’t right. It wasn’t something he could do or should do. 

“You don’t have to think of it now,” came Cole’s soothing voice. Athera looked up, only noticing just how tight his eyes felt. “Time will tell.” 

“ _Time._ ” Athera said the word as if it left such a bitter taste in his mouth. Time was an enemy of his. How could it not be? Leaving him behind as if he wronged it, as if he did not fight countless battles to save other people’s _time._ He does not know how wanting more time turned into wishing he would die every second of every day. It was an endless mantra. _Let me die_. He was unafraid of death, often throwing himself in harm’s way just so he could finally get a taste of the other side. He used to fear death but now it seemed as if it was a merely word holding no danger to it. “Time _will_ tell. It has always dictated the way I lived. It will come for me again soon.”

Cole, at this point, looked like he was about to give up but another thing about Cole was that he never gave up on the people he cherished. He was patient and he was kind. If there some sort of personification for ‘Love’ then it would be Cole. “I will wait with you, Athera.” 

It’s one of these few moments that he remembers that he’s not alone, that he had Cole with him. Cole was always with him, never leaving his side no matter how much Athera unknowingly pushed him away. He is grateful and he should show it more but then he knows that this is a cycle—He would be bitter, Cole would comfort him, he would feel bad about it and evidently try to make it up to him. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. The blond once mentioned (after a gruesome battle with apologists of the enemies of the Lucerni) that it would only break via Athera’s initiative. When Athera was ready. When would he be ready? Cole did not say, only smiled at him then continued to check his wounds. 

“What do you think I should wear at this…movie?” Athera asked, deciding to change the topic.

Cole gave a thoughtful look. “Jacket?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a hard time writing this story that's why it takes ages. My basis for continuing is feedback but mostly I base it on how much I enjoy writing it. I really do enjoy writing Sortis. (What I don't enjoy is how I forget minor details for vague scenes that are supposed to confuse readers but now it's only confusing me)

**Author's Note:**

> How'd I go for someone who hasn't played the game but spent a month researching about the different cultures in Thedas and reading Male Inquisitor/Dorian fics
> 
>  
> 
> Note: Story is subject to change due to unwavering insecurity. Do tell me if you like it.


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